


Two FBI Agents and a Baby

by Ellitheria



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Accidental Parenthood, Angst, Baby Fic, Drama, F/M, Family, Humor, In which Raymond Reddington enjoys himself waaaay too much and Donald Ressler is cranky (as usual), Kid Fic, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellitheria/pseuds/Ellitheria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the hell did he find himself in these situations? Donald Ressler wondered. Here he was, chasing another blacklister, except THIS time, he had a baby strapped to him!</p><p>Wait, what?</p><p>In which Donald Ressler and Elizabeth Keen are forced to care for a baby while Reddington and the team hunt down a blacklister known as The Repo Man. Said blacklister wants to use baby Sammy as bait to catch his parents, who are ... personal friends of Raymond Reddington.</p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Over this past weekend, I drove for a total of 7 hours and THIS lovely idea popped into my head. I love it, because it's:
> 
> 1) The only realistic way Keenler have/take care of a baby in their current line of work  
> 2) Funny as hell  
> 3) Still a case fic!  
> 4) Features cranky Donald Ressler (because I freaking love Ressler, but he is a bit of a cranky pants and I think that Liz helps keep him in line sometimes when his crankiness gets overboard) (Really I just imagine Ressler as a perpetually cranky man and I luffle him to bits. ;)

**June 12th - The Post Office, 5:45 PM**

_How the hell did this happen?_

Ressler finds himself speechless as he watches Keen maneuver baby limbs gently into the sling around his body. Baby slobber leaves snail trails on his clean, black shirt as the infant unconsciously snuggles closer to the warmth he offers. Chubby fingers clasp tightly onto the fabric and Ressler wonders, not for the first time, why he ever thought this was a good idea.

"Shut the hell up!" he snaps at Aram, who is currently trying (and failing) to hold in loud guffaws of laughter.

"Ressler, language!" Liz admonishes him, slapping his arm as she wiggles the baby's foot into a hole in the soft, black fabric. Finally, the baby boy is comfortably suspended from Ressler's chest, sling holding him tight to the older man's body.

 _How did he get himself into this situation_?

Oh, right.

Raymond-fucking-Reddington.

It was  _always_ Raymond Reddington.

**2 Hours Earlier**

"That's a baby," Ressler points out calmly, wondering internally why the fuck Dembe is holding an infant in his arms. Raymond gives Ressler a look that says, " _No shit, Sherlock_ ", but thankfully doesn't verbalize his obvious disbelief at Ressler's stupidity.

"Why, yes, it is, isn't it?" Raymond says, twirling a cane in his hand. He leans heavily on it, grinning widely. "I have a case for you."

"We've never had an under 12 months section on the blacklist," Ressler quips, and really, he's on a roll today. 

"Little Sammy here is in the unfortunate situation of being without parents currently," Reddington says, ignoring Ressler's comment and handing Aram a flash drive, motioning for him to plug it in. "Which I'm sure you can relate to, Agent Ressler."

Ressler bristles at the comment, purposefully ignoring the questioning glance Liz shoots his way. He instead turns his attention to the screen, where a picture of two happy-looking middle-aged adults flashes in front of him. One, the woman, looks to be in her early forties and has long, brown hair. The man looks a little older, perhaps five or ten years younger than Reddington, and while he's smiling, it's easy to tell he's not comfortable where he is. In fact, the look in his eyes reminds Ressler of Reddington - carefully cheerful, always smiling, but never quite at ease. 

"Meet James and Sherry Madison. This baby," he says, waving in the direction of the blanketed lump in Dembe's arms. "Is their son, Samuel Madison. Baby Sammy came into my possession through a series of unfortunate events. James Madison is... an old friend of mine. We met in Russia back in '99. He helped me out, I helped him, and we parted ways as unlikely friends. He reached out to me a few days ago, saying he felt like he was being followed and that he was worried for Sherry and Sammy. Now, this didn't seem unusual, because James and I were mixed up in something that ... well, let's just say it left a lot of people looking for us. However, for James, it's more of a concern than it would have been to, say, _me_ , because against my advice, he put down roots and began a family. Families are tricky things," Reddington continues, one side of his lips turning up into a smirk. "They can be used against you in too many ways."

"I assume he was being followed," Liz cuts in, filling the silence that followed Reddington's comment. "Since he's not here and you have his baby?"

"Good inference," Reddington praises her, motioning for Aram to flip to the next slide. "Up next is a man known to the shadow community as The Repo Man. Repo is a mostly faceless, nameless,  _well known_ hunter in mainly Russia, but he does branch out if the price is right or the target is worth enough. He is a contract kidnapper."

"Contract kidnapper? Like, he kidnaps people for others?" Ressler asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares at the screen.

The Repo Man is nothing more than a blurry photo of half a face, mostly covered by a hoodie and moving fast. From what Ressler can see of him, he can tell that Repo Man is not someone you'd want to meet in a dark alley. He has scars covering the half of his face that can be seen, and the gleam in his eyes is predatory. 

"Correct," Reddington continues, waving Aram to the next slide. The next few pictures are of bodies in conditions that Ressler is fairly certain they didn't recover from. He winces, glancing at Sammy as the baby begins to stir. 

 _Who hunts a kid_? he wonders.

"The Repo Man wants Sammy," Reddington continues, flicking the screen off and turning to meet the eyes of his team. "Sherry came to me this morning and passed Sammy into my care. I helped her disappear for now, but she and I both know that it won't be permanent. The Repo Man is well known for a reason. He always finds his targets. _Always._  James is gone - no trace. My assumption is that The Repo Man has him. However, whoever paid The Repo Man to  _find_ James likely won't be able to get the information he or she needs until they have leverage - Sherry and Sammy. James won't give in if it's just his life, but - and this is indeed the reason why I advise against personal attachments of any kind - if his wife and son are threatened, he's likely to give away any information he has access to."

"So, our job then, is...?" Liz questions, confusion clouding her face as she tries to sort through all of the new information.

"We are in the somewhat unfortunate situation of not having a lot of information," Reddington confesses, sighing as he moves toward Dembe. "We know The Repo Man has been hired to find James, Sherry and Sammy. However, we don't know his real name, what he looks like, or where he is. Furthermore, we have no idea who  _hired_ him in the first place. All I  _do_ know is that we have to keep Sammy safe. I consider it a personal favor from one friend to another." _  
_

"Fine then," Ressler says, uncrossing his arms and reaching for the phone. "I'll be in contact with protective services, and Aram can begin digging up all the information he can find on this Repo Man."

"Are you out of your mind, Donald?" Reddington asks, laughing sardonically as he takes the baby from Dembe and cradling him carefully. "Sammy will be dead by nightfall if we turn him over to those incompetent  people. No, no, no," he chuckles, clicking his tongue as he moves toward Ressler and Liz. "There are very few people who I trust to take care of Sammy - and only  _one_ who is state certified to foster children!"

A look of shock crosses Liz's face as understanding dawns.

"Oh, God, you don't mean... "

"Congratulations, Lizzie, it's a boy!" Reddington announces, a shit-eating grin taking over his features as he gently deposits 12 pounds of warm, breathing baby boy in her arms.

"Wait a second," Ressler steps in. "That's not safe at all. You said this Repo Man will be looking for Sammy, and that he's the best at what he does. That means Liz is in danger, no way! She lives out of a hotel right now, there's  _no way_ she'd be safe looking after Sammy." 

Liz looks like she wants to argue with Ressler (typical I can take care of myself, I am a grown-ass FBI woman, for goodness sake! argument) when Reddington steps in once more.

"Of course, how careless of me! You're right, Donald, of course she can't take care of him alone."

Ressler begins to relax at Reddington's words (though, really, he shouldn't have, considering how long he'd known the man).

"She'll need to stay with you. That way, you can keep her safe!"

_What had he gotten himself into?_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_Previously..._ **

_"Of course, how careless of me! You're right, Donald, of course she can't take care of him alone."_

_Ressler begins to relax at Reddington's words (though, really, he shouldn't have, considering how long he'd known the man)._

_"She'll need to stay with you. That way, you can keep her safe!"_

_What had he gotten himself into?_

* * *

**_June 12th, 8:30 PM (Toys 'R' Us)_ **

"Keen, what are we doing here?"

Ressler was comfortable in a variety of situations — he felt confident in a shoot out, loved the thrill of a chase, enjoyed a good stake-out — but here, he felt very, very  _uncomfortable_.

He was surrounded by  _toys_ , and  _baby things_.

"Babies need a lot of stuff!" Liz says in exasperation, throwing her hands into the air before wincing, afraid she might have woken the baby. She looks over, but baby Sammy is still sleeping peacefully against Ressler's chest. He looks uncomfortable in the sling, the fabric wrapped tight around his diapered butt and crossing behind his back before disappearing behind Ressler's chest. It  _looks_  uncomfortable, but according to all the books she'd read when preparing to adopt with Tom, babies felt safe in the sling because they could feel the warmth of the human holding them and hear their heart beating (which had something to do with them liking the sound, because they listened to their mother's heartbeat while in the womb, but Liz had been afraid if she'd mentioned anything to Ressler about  _mothers_  or  _wombs_ while he was wearing the baby, she wouldn't have won the argument that she did).

 _"You have to wear the baby," she'd told him a few hours beforehand. When he'd questioned why and started tensing up for the inevitable fight, she cut him off. "Because we need to go shopping, and you know nothing about shopping for a baby._ I  _do. Therefore it makes sense if you take the baby and I shop, so we can get out of there quicker and home at a reasonable time."_

"Do we really need a crib? I mean, this isn't exactly a long term thing," he says, waving in the direction of Liz's preoccupation. She was staring at the cribs with the type of concentration she usually reserves for interrogating murderers.

"I was just thinking that," she murmurs, pushing the cart past the wooden cribs. She stops next in front of something called a  _pack and play_. "One of these should be good. They're cheap, and will serve our purposes."

It looks just fine to Ressler, and the reduction from $399 to $58 looks pretty good, too. It's a metal and mesh playpen that has an attachment halfway up for the baby to lay in. He assumes people use it when traveling with their babies, which will serve them just fine because they never can tell where they'll be from one day to the next.

He helps Keen heave it onto the bottom portion of their cart, being careful not to squish Sammy.

"Ok. We have somewhere for him to sleep. Now what?"

'Now what' was apparently the wrong thing to ask, because before long Ressler's head is spinning.

Bottles, formula, soft baby food ("how old is he, anyway?" Liz asks, because babies should start eating soft food at about six months), burp cloths, diapers, wipes, butt paste (God, he hopes that's for rashes, because who decided on that name, anyway?), powder, baby shampoo ("No, Ressler, he can't use yours") baby washrags, baby towels, socks, shoes...

"Oh, my God, my poor credit card," Ressler moans, absently stroking Sammy's soft hair before realizing what he's doing.  _Nervous habit_ , he assures himself.  _Not forming any attachments, nope_.

Liz chuckles, steering them in the direction of baby clothing.

"Your assumed chivalry is appreciated," she notes. "But Reddington gave me his credit card. I don't necessarily want to know how he applied for - or qualified for! - one, but he said that the baby expenses would be reimbursed by Sammy's parents when we find them."

"Ah," Ressler says, eyes darting around in panic as he becomes engulfed in baby clothes.

Liz pauses amongst the chaos, taking everything in before forming a plan of attack. "Alright. We need onesies, pants to go over them, sleepers, socks, shoes, and a warm coat. That should cover all his needs for the foreseeable future."

Confident in her plan, she proceeds to throw upwards of 20 onesies and sleepers in the cart. Ressler blanches.

"How much clothing does he need?!" he demands, absently soothing Sammy as his loud voice causes the infant to begin twitching in his sling. "He's the size of a cat, for God's sake. I don't even need that much clothing and I'm a grown man!"

Liz chuckles, tossing a few more into the cart for good measure. (Hey, they have cars and trains on them, they're cute!) "Yes, but Ress, you don't throw up, pee, or poop on yourself often."

Ressler colors slightly at the comment, but grumbles his agreement before following behind Liz as she picks out a few pairs of baby sweatpants to keep Sammy's legs warm.

"We need a car seat!" she yells suddenly, and Ressler rolls his eyes before following her once more. His poor, manly FBI issued SUV is about to be taken over by a baby's car seat. Thankfully, once they reach the display, Liz picks out a reasonable, solid colored car seat and steers clear of the ones covered in garish animals or printed in painful to look at patterns. The one she chooses has a black base, handle, and outline, but the inside is a soft blue, like the color of the sky on a sunny day. Liz seems pleased with her choice, hefts it into the cart, and sighs deeply.

"I can't think of anything else. I think that's it."

" _Thank God!_ " Ressler responds, taking over the pushing of the cart. He steers them in the direction of the checkout, and as he begins piling things onto the convener belt, his phone rings and Sammy wakes up - loudly. "Uh, Liz...?" Ressler asks helplessly, gesturing toward the full cart and holding out his phone. Liz nods and takes over immediately as Ressler swipes his phone to unlock it and presses it up against his ear.

"Ressler," he greets the caller on the other end.

The chuckle that follows his greeting is entirely too amused for Ressler's liking.

" _What did you_ do _to him?_ " the voice of Raymond Reddington asks over Sammy's wails, which are increasing in intensity as he realizes he's been woken from his nap for a simple phone call and that he's in the middle of a crowded, noisy store.  _"You've had him for, what, three hours?"_

 _"_ Shut the hell up," Ressler snaps, patting Sammy's back in an uncomfortable effort to calm him down. He tries not to be offended when Liz rolls her eyes at him and gently untangles the baby from Ressler's sling, pulling him into her arms. She begins to coo at him and make funny faces, and if Ressler weren't so shocked to see this side of his partner, he  _might_  have thought it was cute. "What do you want?"

 _"Manners, Donald!"_ Reddington admonishes, and though he sounds scandalized, Ressler can prctically  _hear_  the man's smarmy grin.  _"Regardless of your child caring skills - which are frightening, really, Donald, have you never taken care of a baby before? - I need your assistance fairly immediately."_

"We're in the middle of Toys 'R' Us," Ressler responds, glancing up to see the lady at the checkout counter eyeing him warily. Liz is grinning at her, Sammy is wailing, and they must look pretty interesting, the three of them. "The cashier is looking at us like she might call DFS. When do you need us?"

_"Not 'us', Donald. Lizzie needs to stay with Sammy. Dembe is going to meet you two at your apartment, where he will take over looking after Lizzie and Sammy. I'll have a car waiting for you. We may have a lead on The Repo Man."_

"Great," Ressler says, excited at the prospect of getting somewhere with this case. He isn't used to sitting back and waiting. Normally, they have more to go on, an actual face or facade to hunt. "Um. Liz isn't going to be happy, sitting this one out."

 _"I'm confident you'll find a way to make her realize it's really for the best_ ," Reddington says, and Ressler's sure he's not so much confident in Ressler's abilities as he is happy he's not the one that has to tell Liz - who enjoys shooting first and asking questions later - that she has to sit quietly at home with the baby while the men figure this one out.

"Right. Thanks."

_"See you soon, Donald!"_

Ressler hangs up on him without saying goodbye, which he figures is the least the man deserves for interrupting their shopping trip and causing Ressler to pass on unfortunate news to his partner.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear about the fire!" the cashier squeals the second he hangs up the phone, clapping her hands over her heart as she turns to Ressler, sensing he's a viable target now that he's off the phone.

"What the  _hell_ -" Ressler begins, confused.

Liz smiles a wide, innocent smile up at him, loops her arm though his, and looks up at him with a sickeningly sweet gaze. She tucks a lock of brown hair behind her ear and let's her free hand rest on his chest.  _Warm_ , he thinks. Sammy, who is now squished between them, is gurgling happily, chewing on his fingers with his toothless gums.

"I'm sorry! I know we said we don't like to talk about it, but  _Sara_  here was so _curious_ as to why we needed so many things for Sammy, since he's already four months old, and I just had to tell her about the fire!"

Ressler is looking at Liz like she's an alien until she kicks him in the shin (fairly hard, ouch) reminding him that, yes, she is an FBI agent and that he'd better act along with her, or he'll be receiving more than just the one bruise.

"Right. Ah - thanks. It was... a shock," he says, and really, his acting skills are appealing. It's a good thing their cashier is like, twelve, because she soaks it all up and Ressler is shocked and awed to see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

_Is it time to go home yet?_

He's exhausted and barely able to put forth the effort necessary to finish this conversation before he snaps at the overbearing cashier.

"I can give you 25% off your purchase today," she adds as she (attempts) to discreetly wipe her eyes, ringing up the last item (oh, my God, is their total really over five hundred dollars?!) and shoving it into a bag. "I'm not really supposed to, you know, unless you sign up for our credit card, but I can't imagine what you're going through! And especially with such a little one."

Sammy agrees with her with a loud shriek, and Sara the cashier is so busy cooing over him and his bright green eyes that she doesn't notice Ressler rolling his eyes as he loads their cart up with the bags.

By the time they leave the store, he's managed to shift from supremely annoyed to mildly amused.

"You," he says confidently as he takes Sammy from Liz so she can harness the car seat (thank goodness it was already assembled) into the back seat of their SUV. "Have been spending  _way_  too much time around Reddington."

Liz grins, as if this is a compliment, and reaches around Ressler to take Sammy and buckle him in. Ressler then moves to load the rest of their purchases into the back of the SUV.

"By the way, that was Reddington. He needs my help," he says, and he only feels a little bit like a coward for using the fact that they have a baby and half a ton of car between them as he delivers the bad news. "You - ah, he said you need to stay with Sammy."

Ressler can practically  _hear_  the feminist comments building inside of Liz, so he's quick to attempt to placate her.

"Liz, I swear, this was not my idea. I don't like splitting up any more than you do - we all know it's not safe to go anywhere alone. We've learned that the hard way -  _more_  than once."

"Then why the hell are you going along with Reddington's harebrained idea? Normally you're the first one to tell him when something he wants isn't safe," she asks, slamming the door a little harder than necessary once she has Sammy buckled in. She stomps to the driver's side of the car, and Ressler sees this for exactly what it is - she knows  _why_  she has to stay, but because she is woman (hear her roar) she is going to continue with the argument while passive-aggressively reassuring him she's just as capable as he is by driving them to his apartment (a job she normally lets him do without complaint).

"You and I both know this is hardly a normal case," Ressler says, climbing into the passenger seat without (much) complaint.

"Of course I do! It's not often - no, we have  _never_  been asked to babysit before!"

"Well, our first case - "

Liz cuts him off before he can finish.

"No, our first case we were transporting a little girl who got kidnapped. We were not babysitting and it wasn't an  _infant_."

"No," Ressler agrees, scratching his head as Liz turns out of the parking lot. "But you're only proving my point. She got  _kidnapped_ , Liz. Thank God that case ended well, but there's no guarantee that whoever wants Sammy won't  _torture_ him to get James Madison to reveal his information. Quit being thick and realize that this is the only way," he snaps, leaning back against his seat as he crosses his arms.

The SUV is uncomfortably quiet for a few moments before Liz sighs.

"Fine."

"Fine," Ressler agrees, still not ready to converse again.

Sammy gurgles happily in the backseat, shrieks, and tosses the stuffed bunny Reddington had given to him into the front.

Ressler grins. "Fine, buddy. We're done fighting."

Liz scoffs. " _That_  was not a fight. That was a friendly argument."

The car is silent for a few more minutes, until they pull into the parking lot of Ressler's apartment. The see a nondescript black car parked in the far corner, and they both know it's Dembe. Liz sighs again, pulls swiftly into a parking space, and shuts the engine off.

"I get to go next time we have a lead," she says firmly, and Ressler grins at her before unbuckling his belt and opening his door. He steps out, then turns around, resting his hands on the top of the car. He glances in and meets her eyes, and her heart does not (absolutely  _does not_ ) flutter the tiniest amount at the impish grin he gives her.

"We'll see. Have a good night, Sammy!" he calls, beating twice on the top of the car before walking in the direction of the black sedan. Liz leans back, eyes flicking toward Dembe, whose heading their way.

"Looks like it's you and me, Sammy," she says, and when Sammy kicks his feet in delight and grins a toothless grin at her she thinks,

_how bad could this be?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having SO MUCH fun writing this! Also, wow! That response to the first chapter was definitely motivation to write faster! I'm so glad everyone is interested. I'm happy that you think everyone is in-character. That's one of my biggest worries, because these guys are HARD to write correctly! Ressler especially, because the show hasn't exactly given us much to work with.
> 
> Please review! (Reviews are like crack to writers!)


	3. Chapter 3

**_Previously_ ** _**...** _

_"I get to go next time we have a lead," she says firmly, and Ressler grins at her before unbuckling his belt and opening his door. He steps out, then turns around, resting his hands on the top of the car. He glances in and meets her eyes, and her heart does not (absolutely does not) flutter the tiniest amount at the impish grin he gives her._

_"We'll see. Have a good night, Sammy!" he calls, beating twice on the top of the car before walking in the direction of the black sedan. Liz leans back, eyes flicking toward Dembe, whose heading their way._

_"Looks like it's you and me, Sammy," she says, and when Sammy kicks his feet in delight and grins a toothless grin at her she thinks,_

_how bad could this be?_

* * *

**_June 12th, 10:00 PM (Unknown Location)_ **

Ressler represses the urge to sigh at Reddington's paranoia as he switches from the car that Reddington hired to bring him to the car that Reddington himself is currently in.  _He's saved our lives several times with his paranoia,_  he reminds himself, opening the door and sliding in beside the older man.

When Reddington hands him a bullet proof vest and a "gun that can't be traced back to you," Ressler becomes even more wary.

"Expecting our night to go that well, huh?"

"One can never be prepared for too many outcomes," Reddington says, snapping his own vest on. Ressler follows his lead, praying he won't end up with a bullet hole in him for his efforts tonight.

 _Hard to take care of a baby while in the hospital_ , he thinks, and then laughs,  _because when the hell did his life begin revolving around the needs of an infant that wasn't even his?_

"Care to share what about this evening is so amusing to you?" Reddington asks, motioning for his driver to begin moving. They pull out into an empty street - the road is quiet and dark, and were it not for the gun in his hand and the pressure of the life-saving vest on his chest, he might find it peaceful.

"Nothing about this outing we're taking is funny, just the fact that I've begun planning possible hospital visits around Sammy's childcare schedule."

Reddington chuckles. "How  _is_  fatherhood treating you, Donald?"

Ressler gives the man a look of disdain as he snorts. " _This_ ," he says, motioning in the air to communicate his current predicament. "Is not permanent. I am  _not_  a father."

Reddington looks at him with a gaze that Ressler's not sure how to interpret. He looks both amused and a little sad, so Ressler chooses not to dwell on it. "Regardless, it must be very interesting, this situation I've unwillingly forced on you."

Ressler wants to agree, but he doesn't want to play into whatever Reddington is leading toward. He shrugs, and sits back.

They're silent for a long time, and Ressler isn't quite sure why he opens his mouth again, but once he does, he can't stop the words. (Honestly, it's about time he shared this with someone, though Reddington wouldn't have been his first choice were he thinking clearly).

"Audrey was pregnant."

Reddington snaps his head toward Ressler in surprise, but quickly rearranges his features to be neutrally calm. "Oh?"

Ressler nods. "Yeah. I had no idea. I found the test, after..." he waves his hand around again, and wonders when he became such an appalling communicator (he'll blame the baby). He sighs. "After she died. I found the test in her things. She had it wrapped in some clothes - she was hiding it from me."

"I see," Reddington says, and Ressler wishes that for once in his godforsaken life Reddington would simply say what he was thinking.

"I would have been a horrible father," Ressler finally says, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out of the window. His words finally spur Reddington into action, and the older man's words of wisdom are not particularly helpful, though they do, in some strange way, make him feel a little better, because  _at least he's not alone_.

"This life makes all men horrible fathers. I was a horrible father. James Madison is a horrible father, for bringing life into this world that is in such danger, always. And not just danger - every child has the chance to be kidnapped, raped, murdered. But the children in the lives of an FBI agent - in your position, that is, many people in the FBI field office have normal families and are just fine - and children born to people like  _me_ , they're messed up. There's no fixing what is done to them, they'll never escape this life. It's not worth it."

Ressler digests the man's surprisingly passionate words. "I don't think that's completely true," he says, thinking of Liz and how she turned out OK despite Sam's less than appealing career choices. Sure, she went into much the same life he did, but she liked the job, loved the thrill of the chase. Her life was a mess (dead birth parents, Sam's death, Reddington's influence, Tom's betrayal) but if someone could turn out so  _good_  despite so much  _bad_ , surely some people managed alright with their children. "I think in some cases, it could be fine. Like with Liz - Sam adopted her. Who's to say that whatever life she would have had in foster homes wouldn't have been worse? Yes, she's been sucked into this life, but she has such a passion for it, she'd probably be here anyway." Ressler pauses. "I've seen what happens in... some foster homes. In some cases, I'd rather a child be with someone like you or me than be put into that system."

Reddington smiles and it's not a smarmy grin or a knowing smirk. It's a real smile, and it surprises Ressler.

"I suppose you would know, wouldn't you?"

Ressler doesn't want to answer that (yes, I would, I have the scars to show for it) so instead he shifts the conversation.

"Where the hell are we going, anyway?"

Reddington switches gears efficiently and launches into "I know more than you, let me fill you in" mode.

"We received a tip from someone we suspected that The Repo Man would have reached out to. Once in country, he would need documents - IDs, licences - and money. I know a man who caters to people like Repo. I leave him be most of the time because he serves me just as well as others. He can prepare a go bag in less than an hour. Regardless, we were pretty sure he was who Repo contacted, and after some... gentle persuasion, he revealed that he did, indeed provide Repo with what he needed. Including a hide-out."

Ressler digests that information, his heart speeding up at the prospect of a  _real, solid_  lead. "Who is your informant?"

Reddington chuckles. "Now, Donald, if I told you that, you'd arrest him. Let's call him  _confidential_  for now."

Ressler bristles at the comment, but doesn't push. He'll find out later - for right now, Repo is more important.

"Fine. Tell me more."

"My confidential informant says Repo should be hiding out at an abandoned warehouse on 1st and Main. However, he also mentioned that he told Repo about this warehouse over two weeks ago, when he first came to the US. There's a good chance he's moved on - most do, when they get close to or apprehend their target. Switching locations frequently to throw off the scent is common. However, I'm hopeful we can catch him off-guard or find a clue as to his whereabouts. Or, at the very least, some evidence that confirms he has James Madison."

"Right. Well, it's the best lead we have do far. Aram was unable to find  _anything_  on this man. He's practically a shadow."

Reddington chuckles, reaching for his own handgun as the car slows to a stop.

"He  _is_  the best, Agent Ressler."

Ressler tries not to be annoyed at the small amount of respect he hears in Reddington's voice. The man doesn't approve of what Repo does, just that he's so good at doing it.

"How do we want to approach?" he asks quietly, clicking the safety off on his gun and sticking it back in his holster.

"I find the direct approach is always best," Reddington says, sauntering up to the front door. Before Ressler can scream,  _Are you fucking nuts?_  Reddington is knocking loudly on the door. "Hello? Is anyone home!?"

Ressler rolls his eyes so hard it almost hurts. "Idiot," he murmurs, stalking up to the door and kicking it open.  _Ouch, that was more solid than anticipated_ , he winces internally as he enters the warehouse. He quickly sweeps the room, using a flashlight to check the darker corners. When he finds that no one is there - something he belatedly realizes Reddington already knew (that's why he had so much fun, screwing with Ressler the way he had approached the building) - he lowers his gun to his side and turns back to Reddington.

The man is sporting a shit-eating grin as he chuckles.

"Oh, the look on your face, Donald!"

"You knew no one was here," Ressler growls, shoving his gun back in its holster with more force than necessary. "Dick."

"I did, yes," Reddington confirms. "My inside man had already scoped the place out for his next potential client. However, he called me to let me know that there was some evidence I might want to come collect before Mr. Kaplan came to clean the place up."

Ressler pushes down his annoyance. It has been a  _long ass day_ , and all he wants to do is go home and sleep. (Though, he's not quite sure where he's sleeping tonight, but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it).

"Fine. What evidence?"

Reddington leads him to the stairs. They lead to a smaller second story, really just a balcony over the large, dark expanse below. In the upper portion of the warehouse is a chair and a box of tools leftover from The Repo Man's stay. Ressler looks in the box and recoils quickly. He takes two steps back and is surprised to feel Reddington's hand grab onto his arm to stop him.

"Stop moving, or you're going to contaminate the sample," he says, and Ressler looks down to see a large puddle of blood - mostly congealed at this point - spanning the length of about a fourth of the room.

"Oh, God, can he even still be alive?"

 _That's a lot of blood_.

Reddington purses his lips.

"It's uncertain. He could have given in, revealed what his captors wanted to know. If so, yes, he's dead. But if he didn't - and I find that much more likely, James is a very stubborn man - then the Repo Man will give him a few days to heal up a bit before trying again. Or, before doubling his efforts to locate some leverage over Mr. Madison."

"Sammy," Ressler says, and realizes that this job has moved from simply babysitting to around-the-clock bodyguard protection of an infant that can't be more than four months old.

"Yes," Reddington agrees, leaning down and snapping gloves on. He reaches out and his driver (it's weird not seeing Dembe with them, but of course he's protecting Liz and Sammy right now) hands him a vial and a package with a sterilized swab in it. "I'm certain this is James's blood, but just to make sure," he explains.

As he caps the sample and tosses his gloves into a bag with everything else, Ressler realizes that his presence was basically pointless, considering what Reddington already knew.

"Why am I here?" he asks, and Reddington smirks before stalking ahead of him and down the stairs.

"Company, dear Donald! I feel that we haven't spent much time together, you and I."

Ressler rolls his eyes again, but follows the man anyway.

It's a testament to his growing tolerance of Raymond Reddington that he doesn't end up yelling by the time they may it back into the car.

...

...

...

With a sign, Ressler closes the door quietly behind Dembe.

It's midnight, and he just spent the better part of two hours chasing Reddington around town like a lost puppy. He's irritated, tired, and he has to be up in a few hours to make it to the post office.

When he walks into the living room, however, his irritation melts away and he finds himself smiling.

 _Don't get attached_ , he warns himself, and struggles to rearrange his expression into something more neutral. He walks quietly over to the couch and stares at Liz and Sammy for a moment. The baby is curled up against Liz's chest, his rosy lips open as he breathes in an out and his soft wisps of blond hair sticking in all directions. His tiny fists clench Liz's blouse and she has one arm wrapped protectively around his back. It looks like they've both been sleeping for some time, and Ressler finds himself loathe to wake them.

Shaking his head, he reaches over the back of the couch (they look comfortable enough) and grabs the flannel blanket he leaves there. He sets it over the two of them, careful not to cover Sammy's face. When he finds himself fussing as he tucks it around them, he backs up quickly, satisfied they'll be warm and comfortable, and retreats to his room.

He leans against the bedroom door, breathing heavily.

 _Not your family_ , he tells himself, because though he didn't see Audrey and their unborn baby when he looked at Liz and Sammy, the affection swelling up in his chest was enough to make him realizes that he really,  _really_  misses the family that he didn't get to have.

 _Go to sleep_ , he tells himself.  _And deal with this in the morning_.

Except, nothing is ever that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Red/Ressler scenes. I find their interactions hilarious and I feel like Ressler is always coming out one step behind, which is great because Reddington is such a tease. Also, Ressler is getting attached, aww! I love him. ;) I am going to be taking some liberties with his unexplored past in this story. I'm going to explore his childhood/motivations for joining the FBI in the upcoming chapters.
> 
> Also, check out my new story When I See You Again, which is my version of house Season 3 should go, and also is going to keep me sane until season 3 IS HERE ALREADY!
> 
> Please Review! I'd love to know what you think/think should happen in this story!


	4. Chapter 4

_**Previously...** _

_Shaking his head, he reaches over the back of the couch (they look comfortable enough) and grabs the flannel blanket he leaves there. He sets it over the two of them, careful not to cover Sammy's face. When he finds himself fussing as he tucks it around them, he backs up quickly, satisfied they'll be warm and comfortable, and retreats to his room._

_He leans against the bedroom door, breathing heavily._

_Not your family, he tells himself, because though he didn't see Audrey and their unborn baby when he looked at Liz and Sammy, the affection swelling up in his chest was enough to make him realizes that he really, really misses the family that he didn't get to have._

_Go to sleep, he tells himself. And deal with this in the morning._

_Except, nothing is ever that easy._

* * *

**June 13th, Ressler's Apartment, 5:45 AM**

Ressler wakes up to the sound of a baby crying, and at first he can't understand what is going on or  _why he has a baby_ , because he was pretty certain he'd remember becoming a father.

Everything comes rushing back as he hears Liz's soft voice float through the open door of his room. "Shhhh, Sammy... don't wake Ressler. He's cranky in the morning, especially when he's been up late," she murmurs, and he feels briefly annoyed at that comment before realizing she's a little bit right. In fact, Audrey had once described him as a "bear waking up from hibernation early" and he supposes it's pretty accurate.

Regardless, he grunts and turns around to stare at his alarm clock, which flashes,  _entirely too fucking early_  and spawns the thought,  _why the hell do people have children, ever_?

Grumbling about being up before the sun, he rolls out of bed and pulls his bedpants back on. He figures walking around in his boxers might not be conducive to an awkward-free morning.

 _Speaking of awkward_...

Ressler remembers, as he walks into the living room, running a hand through his messy blond hair, the struggle he'd had last night looking at Liz and Sammy without thinking of what he lost, what he didn't realize he  _wanted_. But Liz had no idea, and he needed to keep it that way,  _so pull yourself together, Donald,_ he thought, opening the door that separated his room from the living room.

Liz looks up in surprise. "Oh, good morning," she says. Ressler grunts in response and heads to the kitchen, intent on making copious amounts of coffee. Liz grins at Sammy, presses the tabs of his clean diaper in place, and kisses his belly loudly. Sammy squeals, delighted by the motion, and grabs his feet, grinning his bright toothless grin as Liz swoops him into her arms.

"See?" she mock-whispers to the baby. "I told you he was a bear."

Ressler rolls his eyes, but has to admit (to himself only) that they're both cute. He pulls coffee from the shelf, dumps a large amount of the ground beans into a filter, and presses the 'start' button in record time. "Morning," he finally manages, and Liz chuckles as she sets Sammy in the 'strap-onto-a-regular-kitchen-chair' highchair they'd bought him. He begins immediately banging his hands on the tray, demanding breakfast.

"Looks like you two have a lot in common," she says, moving around him to find the baby formula. He notices but decides not to comment on the ease with which they move around each other in the tiny kitchen. "Grumpy in the morning,  _and_  demanding milk - or, in your case, coffee."

Ressler doesn't respond. Liz walks around, placing a hand on his arm, stilling his movements as he pulls two mugs from the cabinet. "Are you OK? Did something happen last night?"

Liz hadn't thought until this very moment to ask him about last night, because when she'd woken up this morning she was just relieved to see he was  _here_  and  _alive_ , even though she hadn't doubted for a second he could take care of himself. Now, however, she was curious, especially since he didn't seem very communicative this morning.

"It was fine," he says. "We found some evidence that James Madison had been at the warehouse we were at, but no one was there and nothing was left behind to lead us anywhere else."

"Ah," Liz responds, both disappointed that they didn't find more, but relieved that he hadn't been in much danger. She finishes mixing Sammy's formula, and passes the baby his bottle. He is able to mostly hold it himself, but she helps steady it as he takes big, heaving gulps.

"How was your night in with Sammy?"

"Well," Liz begins, moving to sit next to the baby so she can help him with breakfast easier. "It was great until bath time, but he must be used to being bathed at a different time or by his father or  _something_ , because he threw a massive fit when I tried to clean him."

Ressler chuckles, imagining Liz crouched over the bath tum, fighting a four month old who didn't want to be where he was. He imagined water flying, Sammy screaming, and Liz soaked with soapy water. "Wish I could have seen that," he says, reaching into the fridge to pull out some eggs. "Scrambled, or...?"

Liz looks up, smiles briefly, and nods. "Scrambled is fine. With cheese?"

"Coming right up," he says, taking several eggs from the container and juggling them for a second before breaking them into the pan. Sammy giggles in delight, causing the bottle to slip from his rosy lips.

Ressler is comfortable, and it worries him. He's comfortable being up at the ass-crack of dawn talking about  _Sammy's bath time_  interspersed with information about the latest blacklister and it feels both  _normal_ and _nice_.

The sound of his doorbell chiming causes him to cut off the panic that was beginning to build again.  _Thank goodness_ , he thinks, and really the solution to all of this might be to simply ignore his feelings until they go away.

Liz swoops Sammy into her arms once more, and heads to the door.

Before Ressler can yell at her to  _stop, don't answer the door with Sammy!_ she's unlocked the door and opened it to reveal Reddington.

" _LIZ_!" Ressler yells, tossing the spatula down and running into the living room. "What the hell!? What if that hadn't been Reddington? You could have gotten yourself or Sammy hurt!"

Liz looks shocked, because Ressler doesn't yell at her (often) and even Sammy looks alarmed at Ressler's tone of voice. The littler of the two begins to shriek in fear as Reddington looks on in amusement at the proceedings.

"I - I didn't think about it," Liz says, trying to comfort Sammy as Ressler stands there, fists clenched, pissed.

"You  _have_  to think," he says, trying to control himself (panic, fear, anger) as he approaches Liz. He takes Sammy from her arms and holds the squalling infant against his chest. It should concern him how quickly Sammy quiets in his arms, but he's too busy being relieved that Liz and Sammy are OK to worry about it.

"Good morning," Reddington greets, hanging his hat on a hook by the door as he walks inside. He's still amused, Liz is still shocked, and Ressler is still pissed.

"Sorry I snapped," Ressler apologizes finally, staring at Liz as he continues to ignore Reddington. "I just... we learned last night that there's a good chance Sammy is being hunted more intently than before."

"He's right," Reddington says, tossing his coat onto the couch and walking into the kitchen. He reaches for the spatula that Ressler had thrown. He works the eggs into a good scramble, casting amused glances at the trio still in the living room. "It was definitely James Madison's blood on the floor. From what Mr. Kaplan can tell me, it doesn't look like it was enough blood loss to cause death. So, James didn't give in. There's a good chance that whoever is hunting them will double their effors to find Sherry and Sammy."

Liz and Ressler are still mostly ignoring Reddington as he takes over the making of breakfast.

"I'm sorry I didn't think," Liz says. "I forgot all about the case for a minute. In the kitchen, it was... nice."

Ressler smiles, and cups her jaw in his large, warm hand for just a second - just until he realizes what he's doing. He pulls away quickly. "Ah, yeah. Just... be careful, yeah? Especially with Sammy," he says, handing the infant back to Liz.

 _Thank God for Raymond Reddington_ , he thinks as the older man interrupts the awkward moment by asking, "Eggs, anyone? They're really very good."

He rolls his eyes as he walks back to the kitchen.

**June 13th, The Post Office, 8:50 AM**

Aram is both amused by the sight of his two action-oriented partners trying to quiet the fussy baby and  _annoyed_ , because said baby is interrupting his (really very cool) findings.

"I'll..." Liz says weakly, motioning toward the office she and Ressler share. "I'll go calm him down. Ressler can fill me in."

Ara and Samar shared an amused look - and work very hard not to laugh - when Ressler passes over the  _diaper bag_  that had been hanging off his shoulder for the past ten minutes.

"Yes, yes, the sight of me caring for another human being is  _hilarious_ ," Ressler cuts in, having noticed the look they shared. He is an FBI agent, and a damn good one at that. "Please continue with what you were saying."

(Aram tries not to be upset with the fact that Ressler is more focused on the woman bouncing a baby in her arms in the next room than he is on the information being presented).

"Right. Well, we scoped out the security cameras around the address of the building you and Mr. Reddington went to last night," Aram started for the fifth time. No baby to interrupt this time! "And we were able to catch Repo leaving the warehouse. Here, watch," he says, and he presses 'play' on the security tape he'd pulled up. Ressler squints - it's dark, clearly they left at night - and everyone moves fast. He can make out three men, however - one is probably Repo, the one with a bag over his head, limping and being forced by the other two, must be James Madison. The third, he's not sure, but Ressler wonders what role he plays, because Repo seems like the muscle in this video, whereas the third man is directing him.

 _Could this be the mysterious man who hired Repo?_ Ressler wonders.

"Great!" he exclaims when the video ends. "Which way did they go? What else do we have?"

Reddington cuts in. "Not much else, I'm afraid. They went northwest, but that leads to a part of town simply  _filled_  with holes a rat like Repo could hide in. Sadly, my contact is of no further use to us, because he was not involved in helping Repo find his next location. James Madison should be safe - for now. I don't think Repo will try again so soon to extract information."

"The third man?" Ressler asks, because Aram has replayed the video and he's sure this time that, whoever this man is, he's in charge. He says as much, and Reddington grins widely.

"Ah yes, good job noticing that our mystery man has shown up. That," Reddington says. "Is — "

Their conversation is interrupted (which annoys Ressler as he's pretty sure Reddington was about to tell them who had hired Repo) by a tall, thin man holding a package.

"Mr. Reddington?" he asks, and Ressler recognizes him as one of the lesser ranking agents (which makes sense, since he's delivering packages). "This came for you."

"Ah, thank you, Mr. Jones," Reddington replies, smiling briefly as he takes the package. Once Mr. Jones leaves, his smile turns to a frown and he sighs as he begins opening the box. "Packages, unless delivered by the giver, are almost always bad things," he muses, and while Ressler would like to claim Reddington wasn't always right, it seemed more and more likely he actually could predict the future.

Because opening a package and finding a hand - still painted red with blood, with loose meat hanging by threads - definitely qualifies as "bad".

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sometimes I write in the outline "Reddington tells Ressler the next step" and then as I'm trying to write, I'm like: CURSE MYSELF! WHAT THE HELL WAS THE NEXT STEP?! Because of course I don't remember.
> 
> Sorry for taking a while to update! Real life will be in the way for a few weeks, but I'm hoping for 2-3 updates a week regardless.
> 
> Please Review!


	5. Chapter 5

**_Previously..._ **

_"Ah yes, good job noticing that our mystery man has shown up. That," Reddington says. "Is — "_

_Their conversation is interrupted (which annoys Ressler as he's pretty sure Reddington was about to tell them who had hired Repo) by a tall, thin man holding a package._

_"Mr. Reddington?" he asks, and Ressler recognizes him as one of the lesser ranking agents (which makes sense, since he's delivering packages). "This came for you."_

_"Ah, thank you, Mr. Jones," Reddington replies, smiling briefly as he takes the package. Once Mr. Jones leaves, his smile turns to a frown and he sighs as he begins opening the box. "Packages, unless delivered by the giver, are almost always bad things," he muses, and while Ressler would like to claim Reddington wasn't always right, it seemed more and more likely he actually could predict the future._

_Because opening a package and finding a hand - still painted red with blood, with loose meat hanging by threads - definitely qualifies as "bad"._

* * *

**June 13th, The Post Office, 5:00 PM**

Ressler is staring at the note that came attached to poor James Madison's hand.

_Turn over Sherry and Sammy Madison or more of James will appear on your doorstep. You have twelve hours before the next ... delivery._

Everyone else is arguing in the small room, ignoring Sammy's cries and Ressler's preoccupation.

"No, of course I'm not saying we should give her up, I'm just saying — "

"Maybe we should find Sherry and ask her, she probably wants to know that her husband is being cut into pieces — "

"We have to think about Sammy, though, he could be in danger — "

"Could we lead them on a false trail to Sherry? That could buy us time — "

"STOP!"

The voice surprises Ressler into dropping the note onto the desk in front of him. It surprises him because it's not the voice of Raymond Reddington at all (which is who he expected to get fed up with the fighting first) - it's Liz's voice, and he can barely hear it over Sammy's anguished wails. Ressler's eyes flicker to the baby, feeling his heart clench as he notices the boy's cheeks are bright red and his face is wet with tears. His tiny hands are balled into fists, and judging by the sounds he's making, he is  _very unhappy_.

"Sammy thinks you're all  _idiots_ ," Liz says, bouncing the baby in her arms and trying to calm him down (the sudden silence is helping, Ressler notices). "We can't do anything - Reddington helped Sherry hide and there's  _no way in hell_  we're turning Sammy over. All this means is that we have to work even harder to find James. It doesn't mean we find Sherry or try to turn her over, it means we do  _our fucking jobs_."

Everyone - Harold Cooper, Aram, Samar, and even Reddington and Dembe - falls silent.

"She's right," Aram mutters, wiping a hand over his forehead. "Of course she's right."

Reddington is grinning proudly, and Ressler resists the urge to roll his eyes as he walks over and takes Sammy from Liz (once again, he tries not to be concerned that the baby boy calms in his presence). "Where should we start?"

Reddington moves forward then, still grinning. He lays his fedora on the desk and turns to Ressler. The younger man shifts uncomfortably under Reddington's gaze as he pats Sammy on the back, bouncing him gently in his arms.

"Donald, you had  _just_  realized something before we were all distracted by the note and the - ah, hand. Think. Remember — what was it?"

Ressler purses his lips, thinking hard. Before the package came, they were talking about the warehouse from the previous night, and watching the security camera footage —

"The man who hired Repo!" he shouted triumphantly, and Reddington nodded, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"Exactly. Dear Donald here noticed that of the three men getting into the van on the camera footage, one - one we had not seen before, as this is his first appearance on stage - seemed to be in charge. This is the man who I suspected was behind the hiring of The Repo Man. He is named Anton Dmitriyev — he is the man from whom James saved Sherry and from whom he has been running all these years."

All eyes are on Reddington as he leans against the desk.

"Let me tell you a story."

...

...

...

"Long, long ago in a land far away — "

"Oh, my God, Reddington, please don't."

"Donald, I'll thank you not to interrupt my story."

"..."

"Go on."

"Russia. I was in Russia at the time. It was back in '99 and I was working with Anton to receive a shipment of weapons. Low demand, untraceable, basically burner weapons. It's harder than you'd think to find a weapon that's untraceable - not in the system, no VIN, common enough that it can't be tracked back to a single buyer, yet still quality and not mass produced. Anton was perfect at this, he offered good firearms at a low price and was always willing to work with his customers."

A pause.

"I was early to our transaction. Instead of meeting Anton, I met his assistant."

...

...

...

"Can I help you?"

Reddington took off his fedora, laying it gently on the desk in front of him. He surveyed the young man - no older than thirty, certainly, and knew immediately this was not who he was meeting with.

"It's true I've never met Mr. Dmitriyev in person," he began, sitting in the chair across from the desk and folding his hands on his knee. He smiled briefly, offering the man the courtesy of kindness. "However, you are far too young and don't have the air of authority and ruthlessness about you I'd expect from a dealer of weapons meant specifically for the black market populace."

The man shifted uncomfortably. Reddington was about to open his mouth to continue (he did enjoy making people squirm) when a door to the left of the desk opened and an older man - much more fitting of Reddington's description - entered the room.

"Ah, Mr. Reddington!"

Raymond Reddington stood to his feet, reaching out to embrace the man. They patted each other on the back, grinning as they pulled apart. The younger man cleared his throat, and Reddington as well as Anton turned around to face him again.

"Mr. Reddington, meet my assistant, James Madison. He will be assisting with your transaction today."

...

...

...

"Why was James in Russia?"

"Fantastic question, Lizzie, and the answer is quite simple. He had lived there since childhood. Dear James' father uprooted the family and moved them when James was very young. James did not choose his position with Anton, he inherited it when his father disappeared suddenly one day. I never have received a clear answer from James as to why or how his father began working with Anton, or how their relationship ended, but it did not seem of import at the time."

"OK, so clearly if James 'saved Sherry from Anton', there was more going on there than weapons dealings."

"Be patient, Lizzie, I'm getting there."

...

...

...

"Back again so soon, Mr. Reddington?"

"Ah, Mr. Madison. You are always so bright and smiling. Are you here to assist me today?"

The younger man nodded, moving from behind his desk to greet Raymond. They shook hands and James motioned for Reddington to head back into the hallway. "Let me take you to Mr. Dmitriyev."

They walked quietly for several moments, Reddington silently taking in his surroundings. He knew the layout of the building fairly well - it wasn't hard to learn, being a simple warehouse. He knew all three exit points and was confident he could use any one of them successfully if necessary.

"It's not been long since our last transaction. Mr. Dmitriyev was not expecting you back so soon."

"Ah, yes," Reddington drawled, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked. "I want to reassure Mr. Dmitriyev that our business relationship is important to me, and I have brought him a gift today, in anticipation of future dealings."

James' mouth quirked at the edge. "I'm sure Mr. Dmitriyev will appreciate it, though he has no need to monetary gifts. His ... _side business_  brings in quite enough money as it is. I hope you brought wine or something that will appease his palate, or else he will not be impressed. He's fond of the classics."

Reddington's interest piqued as he listened to the edge in Mr. Madison's voice. The man did not seem pleased that his boss was doing well, and there was acid lacing his word as he talked about the man's 'side business'.

Attempting to remain nonchalant, he merely said, "Oh?" and James took the bait to continue talking (often, assistants that were privy to too much personal information were more than willing to share it). The younger man was still walking, though Reddington knew they were approaching the room where Mr. Dmitriyev drew deals and distributed goods. He slowed his walk, hoping James would keep pace with him and allow them a little more time.

Information was the lifeline of Reddington's business, and while it was true he hoped that Mr. Dmitriyev would be available for future dealings in untraceable weapons, he also was interested in what had turned his assistant so sour.

"Mr. Dmitriyev doesn't only sell weapons."

"Mm hmm," Reddington hummed, and James turned around to stare at him before finishing his thought.

(Later, Reddington would wonder why James was so willing to share this information, and he would come to the conclusion that James was a very smart man who had recognized Reddington as a man who would be unable to resist helping if the price was right and the reason was compelling enough).

"Mr. Dmitriyev also sells women."

...

...

...

"Oh, my God."

"As in, prostitution?"

"And Sherry must have been one of them."

"Exactly right, Donnie, Liz. Sherry was one of the tens of hundreds of women that had cycled through Mr. Dmitriyev's possession. At first, I didn't know exactly how deep his business ran. As James and I met seven or eight times over the next few months, I learned more and more. Anton was both selling the women as sex slaves, and operating a business of his own, offering his clients more than just weapons on their visits."

...

...

...

"I discovered his business shortly after I began working for him," James confided, both of his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. He was staring at the milky liquid intently as he spoke, not meeting Reddington's eyes.

They were sitting in a little cafe in downtown Belyov, Russia. Reddington was enjoying a pastry as James continued to talk of the darker side of Mr. Dmitriyev's business. "It was by accident, and I am still unsure if he knows I happened upon his second warehouse a few months ago. He has a storage warehouse, and I knew we needed some... supplies, so I decided to make a run to it. I only knew where it was because my father took me there a few times when I was young. I always had to wait in the car. Anyway, I wanted to surprise Mr. Dmitriyev because filling my father's shoes felt impossible and I just... I was stupid."

Reddington clicks his tongue, taking a sip of his coffee. Yes, the man was a little over eager and entirely too innocent, but he was actually very smart.

"What do you plan to do about it, exactly?"

"Well..." James began. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know. There... there was a women there, that I met while I was snooping around. Once I realized that it wasn't  _only_  a supply warehouse, I went looking around to see what was going on. I met one of them, she was different... most of them, they were laying in beds separated by thin sheets. Some seemed sick, but most just seemed... lifeless. I mean, I guess I understand  _why_ , but  _she_  was different. She was fiery and she kneed me in the balls and gave me a black eye before I knew what was going on." James paused to chuckle, and Reddington knew the look in his eyes — he's a goner, and he knew there weren't many ways that this would end well. "She was waiting around the corner, she must have heard me enter. I explained who I was and she suddenly seemed to... light up."

Reddington cocked his head to the side, because he was pretty sure no woman in that situation would be happy to see a living man, ever again.

"She wants me to help her."

Oh. So that was why.

James' confession was quiet, and he refused to look up at Reddington as he aimlessly stirred his coffee.

"Where do you want to start, then, dear James?"

...

...

...

"And the rest, as they say, is history," Reddington concludes. "I helped James rescue Sherry, and in the process we brought Anton's entire business to its knees. He had to flee to escape the charges that would have undoubtedly been piled against him. The women currently in his ...  _care_ , were taken to a rehabilitation facility. Sherry, of course, left with James."

"Oh, my God," Liz says again, sinking down into a chair beside the desk they're all surrounding. "That's horrible."

Her eyes are on Sammy, and Ressler knows she's undoubtedly thinking about the baby and how he was the result of two people in a messed up situation coming together and loving each other despite their past. Ressler passes the baby over, because he knows that Liz wants to hold him but won't ask. She smiles up at him, a smile of thanks, and plays with Sammy's toes (when did that little stinker take his socks off?) as Reddington continues speaking.

"Anton wants revenge. He always has. The fact that it has been sixteen years means nothing. James and I, we destroyed his life, his livelihood. Now, he wants to do the same to James. He's obviously trying to find Sherry and Sammy, probably so he can makes James witness their deaths. I would not doubt that Anton will kill James in the end, too. Anton is a very proud man. Being forced to flee the country when James took down his multi-billion dollar operation was not a hit he took lightly. I wouldn't be surprised if he has been thinking about this for years, planning it all. He will torture James until he finds Sherry and Sammy, and then he will kill them all slowly. Anton is not a man to be taken lightly - he is unstable and murderous."

Six pairs of eyes - Reddington, Ressler, Liz, Aram, Samar, and Cooper's - flash to the box sitting on the desk, left open to grotesquely display James Madison's hand. Ressler speaks up, sighing as he taps the note he'd dropped earlier.

_You have twelve hours._

"And we're running out of time to find them."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter down!
> 
> Guys, did I do something wrong in When I See You Again? I was really excited for chapter 4 to go up, and the response has been next to nothing! Now I'm really nervous, especially since I'm not used to writing case-fics. Still working on Chapter 5 as we speak, though - hope it'll be up in the next 24 hours!
> 
> Please leave your thoughts on this chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

_**Previously...** _

_"Anton wants revenge. He always has. The fact that it has been sixteen years means nothing. James and I, we destroyed his life, his livelihood. Now, he wants to do the same to James. He's obviously trying to find Sherry and Sammy, probably so he can makes James witness their deaths. I would not doubt that Anton will kill James in the end, too. Anton is a very proud man. Being forced to flee the country when James took down his multi-billion dollar operation was not a hit he took lightly. I wouldn't be surprised if he has been thinking about this for years, planning it all. He will torture James until he finds Sherry and Sammy, and then he will kill them all slowly. Anton is not a man to be taken lightly - he is unstable and murderous."_

_Six pairs of eyes - Reddington, Ressler, Liz, Aram, Samar, and Cooper's - flash to the box sitting on the desk, left open to grotesquely display James Madison's hand. Ressler speaks up, sighing as he taps the note he'd dropped earlier._

_You have twelve hours._

_"And we're running out of time to find them."_

* * *

**_June 13th, The Post Office, 6:30 PM_ ** **_  
_ **

By the time 6:30 rolls around and it's time to go home, no one has come up with any ideas - or, at least, none they are willing to share (because Ressler is still pretty sure some of his teammates are tossing around the idea of finding Sherry to draw Anton out of hiding). Ressler and Liz have been in their office for hours, going over everything they have, and eagerly awaiting information from the geek squad ("Ressler, don't call them that, they're the forensics team - have some respect!") about the hand.

It had been confirmed an hour ago that the hand did, indeed, belong to James Madison, but beyond that, they hadn't leaned much. It had been cut off using a (dull) serrated instrument, which explained the gruesome flesh hanging from the bones. There were traces of chemicals and dirt in the wound, but nothing else, nothing specific enough to lead back to Anton or James.

Ressler sighs and throws down the forensics file with a 'thump'. Liz looks up and offers him a small (tired) smile.

"Ready to go?" she asks, and he yawns deeply as he nods.

"If we can pry Sammy from Samar's arms," he says dryly, and he chuckles at the thought. Samar had taken to Sammy like a mother hen to her chick, and both partners knew it was going to be difficult to win him back.

"They make an adorable sight, at least," Liz offers, staring out of their office window to see Samar holding Sammy, who's laughing hysterically as Aram pulls the most ridiculous faces.

Reddington is watching them, too, but instead of smiling like Liz and Ressler do at the sight, he's contemplative.

Ressler knows that look, and knows that nothing good ever comes from it. So as he hands Liz her coat and helps her into it, he keeps his eyes on the older man. He finally looks away as Reddington meets his gaze when they walk into the main room.

"Time to go," Ressler announces, clapping his hands together and motioning toward Sammy. The little boy looks up in surprise, grinning a big, toothless grin as he sees Ressler and Liz. He shrieks and holds his hands out, opening and closing his tiny fists to let them know he'd like to be held now, please. Liz moves toward and takes him into her arms, surprising herself with how easy it seems, how natural a movement it's become (after just two days).

"We're headed home," she tells them, brushing her hand over Sammy's soft, blond locks. "We didn't find anything helpful. How about out here? Did you guys come up with anything?"

Samar is about to answer (probably to inform them that, no, they hadn't found anything useful) when Reddington cuts in. Ressler had almost forgotten he was there, because the older man was being uncharacteristically silent.

"No information necessarily, however I do have an idea."

Ressler is about to tell him where to shove his idea (because he DOES NOT like the way Reddington is staring at a sleepy Sammy) when Director Harold Cooper walks up.

"Please, share, because we don't have any leads and I don't relish the thought of having more body parts on my doorstep at 5 o'clock in the morning."

 _Fair poin_ _t,_ Ressler concedes, because he knows that he, Liz, and Sammy will be up at the ass crack of dawn again so they'll be at the post office before their next scheduled delivery. He doesn't look forward to it, either, but what can they do? Reddington hadn't given them a whole lot to go off of on this case.

"I propose - and believe me, I do not like this idea any more than anyone else is going to, but remember that I am the one who brought Sammy to you in the first place, his safety is my #1 concern," Reddington begins, and Ressler is about to tell him to stop right there, because if his idea puts Sammy into harms way in  _any way whatsoever_ , then he can shove it right up his -

Liz sighs quietly - so quietly no one else can hear- and reaches down, taking his hands with hers and squeezing tightly.

 _Calm down, it's ok, we're right here_ , her motions say, and when he meets her gaze, he feels the anger and fear seep out of him.

"Keep going," Liz says, and Ressler tries not to notice Reddington noticing their hands.

"I think it's time we advertise where Sammy is staying."

Like a flash of lightening, Ressler's anger is back. "No way in hell!" he yells, startling Sammy. The baby begins to cry, and Ressler feels sorry he yelled, because Liz has to let go of his hand to comfort the baby. "No," he says more quietly. "Reddington, you said yourself that these men are stronger and smarter than we are. If they know where Sammy is, there's no guarantee Liz and I - and even Dembe! - can keep him safe."

"I know," Reddington says quietly. "I understand the risk. But I would be there all night, too, along with several of my men. Not just Dembe. My hope is that Anton will send someone - or even come himself! - to stake out the area. He won't attack right after learning the information. No, Anton is careful - keep in mind he's been planning the kidnapping of James Madison for fifteen years. He will not attack tonight. However, if he reveals himself, there's a chance we can follow him, find where he's keeping James."

Ressler doesn't like the idea - not at all. He hates the idea of putting Sammy - and Liz! - in danger. But the way Reddington paints a picture in his mind - them, surrounded, safe, while Reddington and his men follow Anton back to wherever he's hiding - it  _sounds_  like a good plan.

Before he can say anything, however, Liz speaks up.

"It's a good plan. Or at least, it's the best we have. Sammy will be safe and at least this way we'll have a chance of finding James before he's... well, while he's still alive," she finishes weakly, turning to stare at the spot where the aforementioned man's hand had sat most of the day.

Ressler sighs. "Fine."

They turn to look at Cooper, who's nodding in agreement. "Do it. Reddington, have your people follow Keen and Ressler home. Make sure they and the baby stay safe. How do you plan on leaking Sammy's whereabouts to Anton?"

Reddington grins and leans heavily on the desk. "Oh, a hint dropped here and there, a word to the wrong person... Anton has eyes and ears all over this city. Believe me, Harold, it will be easy."

Director Cooper does not look reassured, but Ressler's sure it has more to do with Reddington's ability to gather and distribute such damaging information in a way that he describes as ' _easy_ ' than his doubt that Reddington can pass information of Sammy's whereabouts along.

"So, we just go home? Do you need anything else from us?" Ressler asks, grabbing Sammy's bag (thank goodness it's a plain, black backpack instead of some of the more horrific diaper bags he's seen some men carrying) and slinging it onto his shoulder.

"I know quite well how much you hate sitting and twiddling your thumbs," Reddington offers, smiling as he watches Ressler gather all of their things (having a baby caused ones belongings to triple overnight). "But that's all I need from you, Donald. Go home, pretend everything's normal, and for God's sake, please don't talk about the case at home. You may be bugged."

Ressler very much wants to question Reddington about his last comment (paranoia or actual fact?), but before he can, Reddington turns on his heel and struts from the room. "I'll see you tomorrow, Donald, Lizzie!" Dembe follows the older man without question, offering the agents a brief nod before walking into the elevator that Reddington is holding for him.

Ressler sighs. "Alright. I guess that's that."

Liz nods, rearranging Sammy more comfortably on her shoulder before waving goodbye to Aram and Samar, who have both turned their attention to Aram's computer. Aram mentions something about tapping into all the cameras surrounding Ressler's apartment so that they, too, can have eyes and ears on Anton if he's spotted, but Ressler is tired and knows that his part in this exciting night is, thankfully, more relaxing than most.

"Ready?" he asks Liz, and she nods. They walk down the garage in silence, and as Liz buckles Sammy into his carseat and his little head lolls to the side as his bright blue eyes slip closed, she smiles.

It occurs to her that  _this_  was what she was hoping for when she tried adoption with Tom. She wanted the sleepy baby smiles, the shared exhaustion when the baby woke them up at five in the morning, the extended family and friends (Aram, Samar, Reddington) who loved her baby and made him happy, the comfortable silence as they buckle their sleeping baby in and head home after a long day.

"You ok?"

Ressler's voice is quiet but inquiring. She realizes that she's been rearranging the buckle on Sammy's carseat for far too long, and gives it one last tug (safety first) before closing the back door and walking around to her side. Ressler already has the door popped and it holding it open from his side when she climbs in.

"You spaced out there for a minute," he says, and he looks concerned, his lips turned down and his brow furrowed.

"No, I'm fine," she says, and she is fine - a little terrified, maybe, because taking care of Sammy with Ressler for a  _case_  wasn't supposed to be everything she ever wanted - but she was fine.

As Ressler pulls out of the garage and flips the headlights on, she tells herself that she shouldn't be getting too attached. But then Sammy lets out a little baby snore and Ressler chuckles and she looks over to see his blue eyes sparkling (why the hell does Sammy have to look so much like Ressler? It's screwing with her little fantasy) and she knows it's too late.

She's already too attached.

**June 13th, Ressler's Apartment, 8:00 PM** **  
**

Ressler ends up on bath duty with a tired, cranky four month old because "I clearly remember telling you how swimmingly bath time went last night! Your turn to try," Liz had said the second he'd tried to pass the baby over to her. "I'll make him a bedtime bottle," she says, and walks off, and Ressler is left holding Sammy in the open air.

"Ah!" Sammy protests, kicking his feet back and forth, not used to being suspended in the air.

Ressler shrugs to himself, because  _how hard can bathing a baby really be?_

He heads to the bathroom and sets to the task of removing Sammy from his blue and white striped onesie before setting the baby on his knee (he leaves the diaper on for now, because he has had personal experience with little boys being uncovered, thank you very much) and turns on the water with the hand that isn't supporting the squirming baby.

"Waaa!" Sammy yells, and Ressler looks over, hoping Sammy isn't about to pitch a fit, and stares in surprise when he sees Sammy's eyes sparkling, a huge grin taking over his face as he watches the water bubble into the tub. "Waa!"

"Right, that's  _water_ ," Ressler says, though he knows for certain it's far too early for Sammy to say any words. He finds himself grinning along with Sammy as the baby gets increasingly excited watching the water fill the tub. Ressler tests the temperature with is wrist several times, and when the water is high enough to cover Sammy's waist, Ressler swiftly tugs the diaper off and deposits Sammy into the water.

"Success! Didn't get peed on," he says, ruffling Sammy's hair as the baby begins splashing around in the water. A chuckle from the doorway causes him to turn his head in surprise.

"It's the little things, right?" Liz says, setting a bottle down on the counter before joining Ressler on the floor. He's shed his shoes and jacket, but he still looks a little silly sitting on the floor in his slacks and button down. He's rolled the sleeved up to his elbows, and loosened his tie, and Liz tries to shame her heart into slowing down as she takes in the sight of her partner (quit thinking about him like that, this isn't real). She's unsuccessful, so she turns her eyes away from his body and focuses on Sammy. "He wasn't this excited for bath time yesterday," she comments, giving the baby the stink eye. He laughs harder, tossing some water on her as he tries to wiggle in Ressler's grip.

"Wet babies are very slippery," he comments, and Liz reaches around him to wrap her fingers around Sammy's waist to keep him upright while Ressler goes for the baby shampoo. "Thanks," he murmurs, pouring some shampoo directly onto Sammy's head before lathering it into his blonde hair.

"Welcome," she whispers back, running her thumbs calmingly along Sammy's back as Ressler quickly soaps the baby up.

"I thought I would hate this assignment," Ressler says, and Liz turns to look at him as he gently, carefully washes the suds away from Sammy's bright eyes. The baby looks up at them both, his gaze full of excitement and trust as he plays in the water. His toothless grin stretches his entire baby face and causes dimples to appear on his cheeks. "I don't. I ... I like having Sammy."

"Me, too," Liz confides in her partner, and he turns to offer her one of his boy-ish grins.

"You and I both got screwed over," he mentions offhandedly. "We should both have this. You should have adopted with Tom, and I - I was gonna have a baby with Audrey, before they died."

He's never told her this before, and he's not sure why he does now, but he's thankful that Sammy chooses that moment to pull his shampoo bottle into the tub. It 'thumps' loudly and causes a great big splash, and at first Sammy yells in fright, but then he begins laughing hysterically, and Ressler is too busy worrying about whether he'll be up all night with hiccups to be concerned that Liz is staring at him with tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, my God, Ressler. I didn't know."

He shrugs, wrestling the shampoo bottle away from Sammy, who wants to throw it again. (Thank goodness his laughter has died to chuckles, because baby hiccups are no fun).

"I didn't tell anyone, of course you didn't know."

"Still," she says quietly, and it's what she leaves unsaid that's important.  _Still, I know you miss them_ , and  _still, no one should have to go through that_ , and  _still, you should have told me, I'm your partner_ , but he's right - they are both messed up, and they both  _should_  have a slippery, laughing baby at home, and it's unfair that they were robbed of this.

"I just miss it, is all," Ressler says, reaching behind him for a towel. Sammy would be happy playing for much longer, but he doesn't know how much longer _he_  can stay here, in this tiny room, sitting beside the woman who has helped him take care of Sammy for the past few days, who he's beginning to mix up his feelings for.  _I want this, badly, with you_  - is what he wants to say, but he knows he can't, he knows she doesn't feel the same way, so he wraps Sammy in a towel, unplugs the tub, and escapes to his bedroom where he dries the baby off before redressing him in a one-piece sleeper.

Sammy is cooing sleepily when Ressler notices his hands are shaking.

 _God, we need to finish this case_ fast _, because I don't know how much longer I can do this_ , he thinks, and he feels like a fumbling middle schooler as he swoops Sammy up in his arms and contemplates locking himself in his room for the rest of the night (because he's not sure he can face Liz again after running out like that).

Liz takes the choice away from him when she walks into the room, takes Sammy from Ressler, and says, "Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning," before smiling (softly, too kindly, the type of smile that makes his heart beat faster) and walking out.

Ressler lays down, and he's exhausted, but it's a long time before he's able to fall asleep.

* * *

Wow! Sorry for taking so long. The universe conspired against me, and 3 things kept me busy this week: 1) My computer died, 2) my mom has been super sick, and 3) I am (still) moving from one state to another, so that sucks.  **  
**

Regardless, hopefully I'm back on track! This chapter was a little bit of a filler/we NEEDED some Liz/Ress/Sammy fluff, so I fit it in and next chapter has 2 important things:  _more leads on the case, and some Ressler background._

**Please comment! Let me know how I'm doing!**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Previously...** _

_Sammy is cooing sleepily when Ressler notices his hands are shaking._

_God, we need to finish this case fast, because I don't know how much longer I can do this, he thinks, and he feels like a fumbling middle schooler as he swoops Sammy up in his arms and contemplates locking himself in his room for the rest of the night (because he's not sure he can face Liz again after running out like that)._

_Liz takes the choice away from him when she walks into the room, takes Sammy from Ressler, and says, "Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning," before smiling (softly, too kindly, the type of smile that makes his heart beat faster) and walking out._

_Ressler lays down, and he's exhausted, but it's a long time before he's able to fall asleep._

* * *

**June 14th, Ressler's Apartment, 6:20 AM**

It's a slightly more respectable time when Ressler is awoken the next morning - Sammy waits until just after six in the morning to begin wailing, a desperate call for comfort, a diaper change, and breakfast.

Ressler groans and rolls over, sighing heavily into his pillow because  _dear God, he's exhausted_.

"Mmm gettin' up," he grumbles, and though it's more motivation to make himself move than a statement directed at anyone specific, he hears someone chuckle in the doorway and immediately the events of the previous day come flooding back. His body suddenly feels heavier on the bed and he's not sure he can move yet.

_Oh, no big deal, I just realized I'm a little bit in love with my partner and I am already too attached to the baby we're caring for and this (fake) life we have together_.

"You're delightful in the morning," Liz chirps, and Ressler wants to make a snappy comment but doesn't have the energy. "Sammy and I are making breakfast, if you can haul yourself into the shower and get clean."

"If I must," he responds, flopping an arm dramatically over his eyes.

Liz grins and shakes her head as she walks out, Sammy on her shoulder. He's babbling incoherently and talking animatedly with his arms as Liz deposits him in his high chair and buckles him in, giving him a bottle to keep him busy. She quickly takes stock of the fridge and decides on pancakes for breakfast when she sees the milk, butter, syrup, and pancake mix on top of the fridge.

She's halfway through the first batch when she hears Ressler shuffling into the kitchen. He's freshly showered and is wearing sweatpants and a clean T-shirt. His hair - still wet - is longer than it looks when it's dry and perfectly brushed back. It curls rebelliously (no gel yet) and falls into his eyes. When he sees Liz staring at him, he nods in greeting, bending over to unbuckle Sammy and pull the baby into his arms. He ruffles Sammy's hair, and Liz smiles, a warm feeling blossoming in her chest because  _she's the only one who gets to see him like this_ , grumpy in the morning with crazy hair and making cute faces at a baby.

"Pancakes?" she asks, and he smiles and nods enthusiastically.

"Sammy, you don't know what you're missing. I mean, this?" he asks, flicking the baby's bottle. Sammy yells in protest, glaring a tiny baby glare at Ressler and kicking against the older man's arms as he continues sucking. "This is nothing compared to  _pancakes_."

"Don't taunt him, Ressler. He can't have solid food for another two months _,"_ Liz says, and then bites her tongue because  _we won't have him in two months, don't be stupid_.

"Right," Ressler says, giving in and rubbing his hand over Sammy's hair as the baby enjoys his (boring) breakfast. "Pancakes?"

"Almost," Liz says, and it's only five minutes later that they're both digging in, pancakes covered in butter and syrup and Ressler swears it's the best pancake he's had  _ever_.

"Oh my God, Liz," he says around a mouthful of heaven. "How did you make these? Mine are never like this!"

Liz grins and shrugs, enjoying another bite of hers. She swipes her finger though some syrup on her plate, and reaches over Ressler's lap, letting Sammy try the sticky, sweet goodness. The baby's eyes go wide, and he begins beating his hands on the table, grinning and demanding more. Ressler sighs, rolling his eyes and tightening his grip around Sammy's tummy so he doesn't squirm his way off Ressler's lap. Liz lets him try another bit of syrup, and as Sammy chants, she glances up and meets Ressler's eyes.

It's confusing, these feelings she has. She's staring at her partner, who still has wet hair from the shower and is dressed casually and comfortably, a baby on his lap that she's come to love and she knows that giving this up, going back to her hotel room when this is all over, is going to be horrible. She didn't realize until just now, as she enjoyed making breakfast and waking up to Sammy's sleepy cries, how sad and lonely her life was. How truly and completely  _alone_  she had let herself become.

She swallows hard and forces herself to look away from Ressler.

"Want to go for a walk with Sammy later?" Ressler asks to fill the silence. "We have no new leads, we're technically off today, and it's nice out."

Liz smiles softly. "I'd like that. Maybe after his nap?"

Ressler nods. "It's a plan."

_**June 14th, Brentwood Park, 2:00 PM** _

Somehow, Ressler ends up wearing the baby again, this time front facing so Sammy can take in the sights and sounds of the park. His little blue eyes are wide, two fingers in his mouth as he stares at the eccentric people, hears the loud music and talking, and watches the ducks and geese flap and flutter near the pond.

Ressler chuckles. "I think we overloaded him."

Liz grins and nods. She falls silent again quickly, and Ressler knows something is wrong. He waits to ask her, however, because walking through the park is calming. Green trees sway over their heads, ducks quack, the wind blows softly. It's peaceful being out here, watching families play and be together, realizing there's more to life than the adrenaline of the chase, the constant  _go-go-go_  of their job, the sadness and weariness that goes along with chasing murders and psychotic terrorists day in and day out.

Finally, as they round the other side of the pond and unbuckle Sammy from Ressler's chest to sit him down with some bread crumbs for the ducks, Ressler speaks up.

"Hey, wanna talk?" he offers, and Liz shrugs, brushing her hand over Sammy's head. Ressler is about to tell he she doesn't have to if she doesn't want to, but she clearly needs to talk because she sighs and begins.

"I'm worried about Sammy," she confides, and Ressler is confused.

"What? Why? He's fine - I'm reasonably certain Reddington has at least three undercover men following us through this park. No one will get him here, he's - "

Liz cuts him off, passing Sammy another bread crumb as the baby tosses it as far as he can - about two feet in front of him - and yelps in surprise as a duck waddles up, grabs the bread crumb, quacks loudly at him, and waddles away. It's the most fun thing Sammy has ever done, and he claps his hands jubilantly as he reaches for more bread.

"No, I mean after all this. I'm worried we're not going to be able to save his parents."

Reddington's men were working around the clock, but their latest plan was to sit and wait - and hope  _Anton_  would find _them_. It wasn't a plan Ressler enjoyed - he hated sitting around - but it was their best shot. Regardless, another piece of James had shown up this morning, making his stomach turn and his worry increase.

"I'm worried about that, too."

"What if we can't save them?" she asks, pulling Sammy onto her lap as he tries to wiggle away. He's working steadily at crawling, and she could just imagine him crawling straight into the pond and having to be rescued. "What if they die?"

It's something Ressler's thought about, but-

"Will he go into foster care?" she asks, and Ressler feels panic rising, contorting into anger because  _he can't let her see him as weak, he'd rather her see him as angry -_

"No," he says firmly, his voice deep and certain. He startles Sammy into dropping his latest piece of bread, which is snapped up by a honking goose. The goose causes Sammy to yelp in surprise, and both Ressler and Liz's eyes are drawn to the baby. "No. Never, I will  _not_  let him go into that fucked up system."

"Ressler, language," Liz says quietly, but what she really wants to say is  _what happened that made you hate the system_?

They're silent for several minutes, and Ressler feels physically sick when he begins speaking, because he's never told anyone this before.  _N_ _ever_. And it's both sickening and relieving to let the words flow out of him now.

"My father died when I was 3," he begins, and he won't meet her eyes. Instead, he grabs a piece of the stale bread they'd brought and distracts himself by tearing it into pieces and tossing them to the ducks. "My mom put me in foster care and waived her parental rights. I've not seen her since - I don't even remember what she looks like. And some of it was good, Liz, some of the families were real good - when I was six, I was with a family that took me to the doctor and played with me and read to me and I had a foster brother there who was my hero. I looked up to him so much - he wanted to be a police officer."

Liz stares at Ressler, her heart beating fast because she doesn't know anything about his past, not really, because he keeps it locked inside and doesn't share himself with other people, but he's sharing with her and she's afraid if she speaks he'll stop talking and that's the last thing she wants.

"That's probably what inspired my career choice," he reflects, and he clenches the bread a little tighter as he continues. "But some of it was awful, Liz. Things happened to me that I won't - that I  _can't_  - let happen to Sammy."

He falls silent again, and Liz reaches over, placing a hand on his arm. He looks up at her, and she can tell he's conflicted. She can see him warring with himself, deciding if he wants to share any more or if he wants to stop talking, to lock everything up again and deal with it on his own because it's what he's always done.

He finally sighs deeply, reaching over with his free hand and grasping hers. She thinks he's pushing her away, so she goes to move her hand, to drop it back to her side or to hand Sammy more bread.

She gasps when, instead of pushing her away, he entwines their fingers and lets their hands settle on the grass beside Sammy. His skin is warm on hers, but she can feel him shaking almost indiscernibly as he continues.

"When I was twelve, I went to live with a man. He ... was strict. He had a lot of rules, and it was kind of hard to follow them. I was scared and I felt very alone - before living with him, I'd been in a house with seven other kids, and suddenly I was alone and scared because at first he'd sometimes just scream, and it was very different than what I'd experienced."

Liz feels a sudden hatred toward this man, a burning in her chest as she tightens her grip on Ressler's hand. She hates this man, because he frightened a little Ressler, a little boy just discovering life and just beginning to grow into a man. She hates the image of Ressler - smaller and weaker than he is now - cowering into corner, because the Ressler she sees now, the Ressler that's her partner, is the strongest person she knows.

"At first, he'd yell. He told me if I was good he wouldn't have to punish me. But I kept screwing up - I'd bring him the wrong beer, I wouldn't make dinner right, I'd come home too late or too early or forget my homework or forget to walk the dog, and he got mad and one day he hit me. It... by the time my case worker found out what was going on, I'd been there for almost two years. I have marks on my skin where he put out his cigarettes on my back, where he hit me with a belt. I had scars and was scared of my own shadow and cried when I went to the next foster home and spilled my milk. I was fucking fourteen years old, and I spilled the milk and cowered on the floor like a baby and do you know what my case worker said to me?"

Liz shakes her head, tears silently tracking down her cheeks as she stares at Ressler, unable to take her eyes off of him. He smiles, but it's not a happy smile. It's a sad, resigned smile.

"She told me that if I'd told someone, if I followed the  _fucking rules_ , I wouldn't have been hurt. I mean, God, it wasn't my fault, Liz. I took me a while to realize that, but it wasn't my fault and I can't let Sammy face that - that lack of love, the lack of care, the pain and the loneliness. I can't put him in the system."

Liz is crying and she doesn't know how to stop, so she doesn't. She scoots closer to Ressler and lays her head on his shoulder, clutching Sammy sightly to her - despite his yelps of protest.

"I'm sorry," she says, and he pulls his hand out of hers to wrap it around her shoulder. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that."

"Yeah," Ressler says quietly. "I am, too. I think it brought me where I am today, though. I don't know for sure I'd have gotten in the FBI if it weren't for that jackass, and though I hate him and I hate those memories, I'm not sure I could wish it away because then I wouldn't be here."

It's simultaneously the saddest thing Liz has ever heard, and the most beautiful, because most people never reached a level of acceptance that Ressler had and  _he'd done it alone_.

"You're here now, that's all that counts," Liz agrees.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Sammy realizes he's out of bread to feed the ducks and grows cranky.

"Ahhhh!" he yells, kicking Ressler's arm and pointing to the ducks. Ressler grins, pulling Sammy into his arms and standing up. He reaches a hand down and tugs Liz to her feet, too, and suddenly he can't breathe because  _she's really close to him_ , and she's smiling and he thinks he could do something really stupid if he doesn't take a step back, so he does, breathing in to clear his head.

"Ice cream?" he asks, and Liz laughs, nodding and taking his hand again as they walk down the path to acquire the sweet treat.

Neither of them mention the fact that she doesn't let his hand go until he needs it to juggle Sammy and ice cream.

**_June 14th, Ressler's Apartment, 9:45 PM_ **

"I know it's stupid, but I can't... I just have a feeling," Liz says, and she rubs her hand gently up and down Sammy's back. The baby is sleeping against her shoulder, freshly bathed and dressed in a one-piece dinosaur sleeper. "I ... don't feel safe with him in the living room with just me."

Ressler agrees, though he's glad she's the one who brought it up, because  _"Hey Liz, will you sleep in the bedroom with me tonight because I'm paranoid and worried for you and Sam_ _my_?" probably wouldn't have gone over well (or maybe it would have, but he's not quite brave enough yet to find out). He knew they were both beginning to feel the pressure of their plan, the climbing paranoia as they continued waiting for someone to follow them, to threaten them.

"Let's pull his crib beside my bed. You'll stay with us, too," he says firmly when he sees her eyes flicker toward the couch. "We're grown FBI agents, for God's sake, we can handle sharing a bed."

Liz nods, though she looks less sure than Ressler does (he may be able to handle it, but she's been fighting these new feelings all day and she feels especially raw after his confessions earlier). Regardless, she helps him haul Sammy's pack-and-play into the bedroom, then gently lays the sleeping baby down. He stretches his limbs and yawns, and Liz winces, afraid he'll wake up. When he relaxes and falls back to sleep, Liz relaxes, too.

Until Ressler hands her a pair of his sweatpants to sleep in and walks into the bathroom so she can get changed.

"Thanks," she mumbles, and when he's left the room she quickly shimmies out of her jeans and folds them, placing them on the dresser across from his bed. She pulls off her blouse, leaving her in just a tank top and the sweats Ressler gave her.

She's in bed by the time he returns, face clean and pajamas on. He smiles at her, reaching over to shut off the light. He climbs under the covers opposite her and wiggles to get comfortable. Liz holds her breath until he settles down, back facing her.

"Good night, Liz," he breathes, and when he flips over, placing a hand under his head and smiling at her, she wants nothing more than to squirm a few inches closer to him, to lay her head on his chest, and let him hold her.

She doesn't know what possesses her, but the next thing she knows,  _she's doing that_ , curling close to Ressler's warm, solid body. His breath hitches, and she tenses, afraid he'll pull away or (worse) push her away.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he wraps an arm around her and tucks her head under his chin, breathing heavily against her ear. She can hear his heart beating furiously in his chest, and she wants to say something, anything, because maybe what she's been feeling isn't one sided, maybe he's been feeling the same way, too -

But, she falls asleep before she can make a decision.

Ressler smiles as Liz's breathing evens out. His heart is still stuttering in his chest, and if he leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, who's to blame him?

_Good night, Liz._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhh! LITERALLY NEXT CHAPTER we finally get some Keenler action! :) Get excited! P.S. Pretty please let me know what you thought of the Ressler back story bit? I'm nervous posting it...
> 
> I am not above bribery... review and I'll send you a 1-2 paragraph sneak peak of Ch. 8! ;)


	8. Chapter 8

_**Previously...** _

_She doesn't know what possesses her, but the next thing she knows, she's doing that, curling close to Ressler's warm, solid body. His breath hitches, and she tenses, afraid he'll pull away or (worse) push her away._

_But he doesn't._

_Instead, he wraps an arm around her and tucks her head under his chin, breathing heavily against her ear. She can hear his heart beating furiously in his chest, and she wants to say something, anything, because maybe what she's been feeling isn't one sided, maybe he's been feeling the same way, too -_

_But, she falls asleep before she can make a decision._

_Ressler smiles as Liz's breathing evens out. His heart is still stuttering in his chest, and if he leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, who's to blame him?_

_Good night, Liz._

* * *

_**June 15th, Ressler's Apartment, 6:00 AM** _

Liz wakes to silence, and it's strange, because for the past few days she'd woken up to the sound of Sammy's cries. But she peeks over Ressler's arm and - yep, the baby is still in his pack and play, sleeping soundly with his limbs thrown about and his cheeks flushed (is he too warm? Maybe they should have dressed him in something lighter for bed).

Sighing happily (sleepily), Liz curls back into Ressler's arms. It's a testament to how tired she really is that it takes her about that long to realize that, oh, she's warm and cozy and curled around her partner like an octopus. She blushes as she takes stock of their bodies. She's pressed against Ressler's (really very nicely sculpted) chest, and his arm is thrown over her back, holding her close to him. One of his legs is thrown over hers, keeping her in place as he sleeps on.

Liz smiles (and panics) as she stares at Ressler's face. He's sleeping soundly, his lips open slightly as he breaths in and out. His arm and leg are warm on her, making her woozy with sleepiness. She wants very much to stay exactly where she is, and never move again, but -

"Gotta move before he wakes up," she mumbles sleepily, knowing that he won't be as happy as she was to wake up entwined. She winces when he groans, shifting closer to her and tightening his hold.  _He's not thinking about you_ , she tells herself as he sleepily nuzzles her neck, making quiet happy noises.  _Definitely not thinking about you, probably about Audrey_.

"Liz," hr murmurs, and she gasps, because maybe he  _is_  thinking about her. But then, "Liz. Stop twitching, I'm trying to sleep damn it."

Oh, God. Oh, God. He's thinking about her and he knows he's cuddling (Special Agent Donald Ressler,  _cuddling_ ) and he would like to  _continue said cuddling_.

"Uh," she says intelligently, and she's saved from having to say anything else by Sammy's cries coming from their bedside. He doesn't sound angry, like he does some mornings (usually the mornings he's hungry or woken up unnaturally) but instead his cry sounds like a cry for attention.

"Guh," Ressler complains, reluctantly untangling himself from Liz's body. She feels uncomfortably cold as he rolls away, stumbles out of bed and sleepily staggers two feet away to peer into Sammy's crib. "He's like an alarm clock," Ressler comments, and Sammy squeals happily, apparently agreeing with Liz that Ressler looks funny in the morning with messy hair and in bed pants (really, anything other than his regular suit or plaid). This morning he has decided to forgo the T-shirt, and Liz is finding it especially hard to concentrate.

When he turns around, Sammy in his arms (sharing the same mussed-hair look as Ressler) she can't help but feel her heart clench painfully, because this,  _this,_  is what she wants. She wants Ressler and a baby (Sammy) and the sleepy morning cuddles and the attention he pays her and Sammy and the smiles like he's giving her now.

"Gonna change the poop machine," he comments, ruffling Sammy's already messy hair. The baby protests, reaching up to swat at Ressler's hand. He misses, but continues to smack at Ressler's arm, giggling happily at the new game he's invented.

"'Kay," Liz finally manages, falling dramatically back onto the bed as her partner walks out of the room. Her heart is thumping in her chest and she frowns down at herself. "Shut up, heart," she mumbles, groaning as she flips over and sits up.  _God, she's gone and fallen in love with her partner_. How dumb can she be?

"Wanna jump in the shower?" Ressler asks, peeking around the corner with a mostly-naked and shivering Sammy. He has baby clothes hanging from the other hand, and he's headed toward the bed to deposit Sammy upon it before dressing him. "I'll need to get in after you, so be quick," he cautions, and briefly Liz wonders,  _will he join me if I'm too slow_?

It's a dangerous thought, so she smiles at him and the baby, nods, and walks into the connected bathroom. She's becoming disturbingly familiar with Ressler's bathroom layout and finds what she needs easily. She hops in and lets the warm water both calm her and massage the tension in her neck. Caring for a baby is fun, sure, but she's more tense than she's been in a long time. (Probably since the whole Tom ordeal, but that was enough to require extensive massages. A hot shower wasn't enough then).

When she hops out and dries off, dresses, and heads into the living room, the sight that greets her causes her mouth to become suddenly dry and her breath to catch.

 _God_ , she's so in love with him. She doesn't know when it happened, and she's beginning to believe she doesn't care very much.

Ressler smiles at her from across the room as he waltzes with Sammy. The baby is shrieking happily, his hands gripping Ressler's hair tightly, pulling on the blond locks and stretching them out to their surprising length as they sway around the room. Ressler's humming, too, and he doesn't care that she's watching him or that he hasn't slicked his hair back perfectly, and that she's seeing a side of him that no one at else will ever see.

"Say 'hi' to Aunt Liz," Ressler says, taking one of Sammy's hand and using it to wave at Liz as she grins like an idiot and waves back.

"I'm gonna make breakfast," she says weakly, and Ressler barely acknowledges her as he ramps up the dance, leading Sammy in a new direction, exploring the living room as they listen to their own, secret music and continue their dance.

Liz pulls out eggs from the fridge and sets a pan on the stove. The butter is melting and the eggs are cracked inside the pan when she hears Ressler murmuring to the baby, and when had he (and she) become so attached and how were they ever going to give him up? She'd never seen this side of Donald Ressler and she knows that without Sammy, this could have taken years, and the thought that she might not have realized these feelings for  _years_  makes her panic so much that her chest hurts.

"We're so dumb," she says, silently cursing herself as she flips the stove off.

 _Years_. It could have taken her  _years_  to realize this, to realize that Ressler wasn't all Special Agent Donald Ressler with a stick up his ass. One of them could have  _died_ before she wrapped her head around what had (honestly? always) been there.

"Ressler," she says, because she figured it's fair that she give him some type of warning, but he doesn't have time to do anything more than turn his body in her direction, his lips opening to form words as she takes Sammy from him and comfortably rearranges him on the couch.

Then, she kisses him.

He makes a surprised sound, his eyes fly open in shock as her lips meet his. It's not electric and no sparks fly (not like in the books or movies). It's not even the best kiss of her life (it's uncoordinated and a little sloppy, actually), but the feeling that explodes in her chest as he wraps his arms around her, pulls her close, and kisses her back in earnest, makes it all worth it.

"Ressler," she whimpers, and he pulls back, smiling against her skin as he tucks her head into his shoulder.

"Does this mean that I'm not the only idiot that fell in love with their partner?" he whispers, and she can feel his fingers trembling, knowing that he's still unsure but he is recognizing that she took a leap of faith in kissing him and so he'll take one in revealing his feelings first. She's appreciative that he realizes how hard it is for her to say things out loud, and silently thanks him for broaching the topic (she kisses his neck softly and he shivers).

"No, I realized this morning that I love you and I probably have for a while, but as I was making eggs, I realized that if it weren't for Sammy, I may have not realized it for years, until it was too late, until one of us found someone else or died or - "

Ressler cuts her off with another kiss, and  _oh_ , this one is much better. He's leading and his lips are surprisingly soft and really, he's quite good at this. Liz melts into the kiss, sighing as she rests her weight on Ressler, and he holds her up easily, crushing her body to his, and -

"Ahhhhh!" Sammy yells, tossing his sippy cup at them. It hits Ressler in the legs and the older man chuckles.

Liz blushes and ducks her head.

They stand there for a few seconds longer, and as it seems Sammy is no longer protesting their union, Ressler takes the chance to kiss her again.

His hand is on her waist, fingers dancing across the soft skin of her lower stomach and all of her fingers are knotted in his hair, messing it up even worse (but he doesn't seem to care) when there's a knock on the door.

"Oh, God, that got to be Reddington," Liz moans, trying frantically to make herself presentable (because explaining to Reddington why you look like you've been making out with your partner does  _not_  sound fun).

"Bastard," Ressler growls, annoyed at being interrupted, and his mind flashes back to his original thought when they'd first gotten into this situation, which was  _Raymond Fucking Reddington_ , and he knows his hair is a lost cause and besides, Reddington knows everything anyway, so it's pointless. He does help Liz tuck her shirt back in, however, because she'd already dressed for work. He hands her Sammy in an attempt to appear as though they'd been having a normal morning as he wipes his mouth with the back of his his hand (in case of lipstick) and walks to the door, clearing his throat as he answers it.

He isn't even able to open his mouth before Reddington is chuckling, walking into the room like he owns the place.

"While I'd  _love_  to comment on the fact that you two look like teenagers who just got caught making out - thank  _God_ , by the way, I just won the office pool, and now I can finally take that nice vacation I've been planning with the funds you just provided me - I have important news."

Ressler doesn't even bother answering, because Reddington doesn't give him time and also because he knows it's pointless.

Reddington continues on, taking his hat off and perching it on the table by the door.

And though the news Reddington delivers is expected, it still causes Liz to hold Sammy tighter and for Ressler to take a protective step closer to Liz and the baby.

"You're being followed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Ok. So, they're together (ish) and the case is moving forward. We're more than halfway done! I'm SO FREAKING SORRY it took so long to get this up, but your response to the last chapter was overwhelming! :) I appreciate it!
> 
> Please Review! (I'll post a sneak peak soon as an additional comment, I'll let you know when it's up if you comment!)


	9. Chapter 9

_**June 15th, The Post Office, 9AM** _

Ressler shifts his weight from one foot to the other in an attempt to seem like he's paying attention to Aram and Reddington (who, by the way, has not yet wiped the shit-eating-grin off of his face) when really all of his brainpower is devoted to the woman standing next to him.

_How had he never been aware of her like this before_?

It's like his senses are supercharged. He can  _feel_  her next to him, even though she's several feet away. He can feel her restlessness (could she be restless for the same reason he is?) but he refuses to believe that this new development is because they kissed. He is a man of logic, and kissing someone does not make you hyper aware of their presence.

Regardless of his beliefs, he's distracted as Reddington relays the information they'd gathered while he and Liz had been making out like teenagers with Sammy squished between them. Ressler sighs and wipes a hand over his face, trying to make himself focus on the case (kidnapped man, baby in limbo,  _body parts_ being shipped to them daily, really this was important stuff).

"Am I boring you, Donald?" Reddington pipes up, grinning as he pauses in his speech of greatness. There's a picture of Anton on the screen, clear and sharp - Reddington had taken it and was clearly very proud of himself. To be fair, he should be, it was the first clear picture of Anton in many years and demonstrated the changes the man had undergone. He may have never been caught using old photos, he looked so different - his hair was longer, darker, and his face was sharper, no longer the cushioned face of youth and wealth. Compared with pictures taken around the time Reddington and James Madison had ruined his business and his life, he almost looked like he could be a completely different man.

Reddington waited patiently while Ressler forced himself to refocus on the case. Then, smugly, "Is there something else you'd like to be doing?"

_Yes, damn it_ , Ressler thinks, and snaps his mouth shut so he doesn't say something he'll regret. He knows Reddington is baiting him -  _he_  won't out them, but he'd be perfectly fine if they outed themselves through his gentle prodding.

"No, carry on," he grits out, and as Reddington turns back around, Ressler hears Liz snicker quietly beside him.

"Shut up," he snaps affectionately, and Liz snorts softly as she bites her lip, trying (and failing) to hold back a grin.

As much as it feels wrong to do so, Ressler moves a few feet away so he can force himself to focus.

"So Anton himself has been following us," he recaps, and Reddington looks positively pained as he's forced to repeat himself.

"Yes, Donald, do keep up!" Reddington admonished, eyes glinting as his outburst causes Cooper, Aram, and Samar to all look at him questioningly. He bristles under the attention but redoubles his efforts to keep current with the briefing. Reddington continues, flicking to the next slide which is a photo of Anton walking in the park, head down, hands in his pockets. Ressler hears Liz gasp, and he knows it's because she can clearly see  _them_  - and _Sammy_  - sitting no less than twenty feet away from Anton. How had they not noticed?

Aram speaks up as he notices Ressler and Liz's discomfort. "Anton and his men were first spotted yesterday, as you were leaving the park. We have reason to believe that they have been following you for longer than that, but Mr. Reddington and Mr. Zuma were able to follow their trail this time. They continued trailing you until you reached Agent Ressler's apartment. We almost lost them there, but they entered a building across the street and set up to keep watch."

"We decided that we could wait no longer, because additional men were approaching to join them. We were certain they would have tried to grab Sammy in the night," Reddington broke in, and Ressler couldn't stay away from Liz as she sniffles quietly. He knows what she's thinking - they were right to be extra careful last night, to keep Sammy with them. "We didn't capture Anton, because we wanted him to lead us back to the nest, but we took out a few of his men and captured a few more. He's spooked, but he hasn't moved Mr. Madison yet."

Liz tightens her grip on Sammy, who has been sleeping soundly since the beginning of the briefing. He's in a sling around her chest and seems perfectly content to stay where he is forever.

"We were right," she says, and everyone turns to look at her because she hadn't spoken in a while. "We kept Sammy with us last night because we both felt ... wary, I guess is the word. We kept him in the bedroom with us last night instead of in the living room, like normal."

Ressler wants to both hug Liz and also put a hand over her mouth to make her stop talking, because if Reddington looked smug before, now he looks positively  _gleeful_.

"It  _was_  a good idea," the older man says, radiating amusement. "That you kept him in the _bedroom_. With  _both_  of you.  _All night_  long."

If it weren't for the fact that he could be suspended and lose Sammy and this case, Ressler might have punched the smug bastard.

Thank  _god_  FBI agents aren't known for their ability to pick up on subtle hints involving relationships - they were only good at that if it meant catching the bad guy. In fact, that inability to pick up hints is probably what took him and Liz so long to quit dancing around the subject of feelings. Regardless, the rest of the task force moves on without paying attention to Reddington's highly suggestive comments, though it doesn't seem to dull his amusement at all. He's still grinning and prancing around the workstation as he gathers the information he'd brought and shared.

"Agents Ressler and Keen, I'm placing you under house arrest with Sammy until we figure this out. Don't argue, Agent Ressler," Cooper warns, catching Ressler before the planned argument could pass his lips. "Reddington has plenty of men on this, and I'm adding Agent Navabi onto his team. They can do this one without you, keeping Sammy safe is our first priority."

"Fine," Ressler grumbles, and realizes as he does that while they may be bored (they both hate sitting still while others do all of the work) they will have more time together...

"Oh, don't worry about Donald and Lizzie," Reddington pipes up. "I'm sure they'll find  _plenty_  to occupy themselves."

_DAMN THAT MAN!_

Harold Cooper chuckles, but from the look on his face, Ressler is pretty sure he doesn't understand what's being said, which is good, because this whole new... thing, is something they - he and Liz - need to talk about first before telling other people.

Ressler hears Liz sigh deeply (annoyed) and he rolls his eyes as Reddington shoos them out of the room.

"Go home!" he chirps. "Enjoy your day off. This will all be over soon!"

_Famous last words._

**June 15th, Ressler's Apartment, 12:05 PM**

Lunch has been eaten, the laundry is put away, the baby is sleeping, and Liz and Ressler are standing awkwardly in the living room on either side of Sammy's pack-and-play when the rushed atmosphere of the morning fades away.

"So..." Ressler attempts, running a hand through his hair. Liz has noticed that running his hand through his hair seems to be what Ressler does when he's nervous, which she thinks is endearing.

"We should talk," she decides, taking a seat on the couch and tucking her feet under her. She'd changed back into comfortable clothing, opting for sweats and a t-shirt instead of her slacks and blouse. Ressler had dressed down as well, though he hadn't gone as far and had changed into worn jeans and a flannel.

"Yeah, we should, huh?"

He joins her on the couch, keeping to his side. He meets her eyes and smiles - he feels confident that they're on the same page (they sure had been earlier, and he'd sure as shit like to get back on that page) but he feels a little awkward and uncertain of what will happen now.

They're silent for a while, and Ressler realizes eventually that he'll have to make the first move. Liz had been brave enough to make the first physical move but he had spoken of his feelings first, and he realizes that her past experiences and her failed relationship, the relationship built on lies and betrayal, had probably made it harder for her to put herself out there emotionally. Physically was another story - she felt comfortable kissing him. But saying  _I love you_  and talking about feelings was more difficult, harder to take back and more permanent.

"It was a few months ago I started realizing it," he finally says, his hands suddenly busy worrying one of the buttons on his shirt. He meets her eyes and grins again but finds it hard to hold her gaze as he continues. "After we got The Deer Hunter. After I saw you... hanging there, and after you told me you were going to turn yourself in. It... hit me pretty hard. I realized I cared for you more than a partner, more than a friend. But it wasn't a good time. It was... crazy, with Tom and the lawsuit and everything. And I realized that if you turned yourself in I'd never see you again and that  _terrified_ me. I still didn't know ... I still couldn't put a name on it, but it was new and scary and I tried to ignore it."

Liz opens her mouth to speak, but Ressler has more and he's afraid if he doesn't say it now he won't say it at all. So he continues on without stopping, taking her hand in his to let her know that he wants to hear what she has to say but he has to say this now.

"At first, I didn't like you. I didn't respect you  _at all_ , because you were a profiler and I don't like psychology. And then after the Stewmaker, I realized I cared for you and your safety - you were my partner. It was a slow development, but you grew on me. I started caring for you as a friend after our base was invaded and I realized I'd rather break the rules than watch you die. I confided in you - you were a friend. I think our relationship steadily grew from there, but it wasn't until you found me in Sitka drugged to the gills and in withdrawal after breaking my own finger that things started changing again. You sat with me, you were there for me, and you didn't turn me in for drug abuse even though I fucking turned you in for giving your gun to a suspect. And then you told me that the idea of living without me was terrifying and I realized that it was. It was terrifying. And then you tried to turn yourself in and I was a dick to you because I was afraid that I'd lose you and that's when I realized I loved you even though I didn't have that label for it yet."

He takes a deep breath, because not only was that a lot of words, it was a lot of feelings and truth and he's put it all out there and he hopes to God she'll accept him and his confessions.

Liz chuckles, but she's smiling and her cheeks are flushed and he thinks that's a good sign.

"I don't know how to follow that," she admits, scooting closer to him on the couch and leaning against his arm. She's having trouble looking him in the eye, but he knows that admitting her feelings will be hard enough so he gives her that comfort. "I think I realized I cared for you as more than a partner around the same time, but the turning point for me was when you agreed to come with me about Tom, no questions asked. You didn't turn me in and you remained by my side through it all, not judging me and not seeing me differently. You didn't look at me like I was a crazy person who kidnapped and questioned her ex-husband for months, because that's freaking  _crazy_  but you didn't judge me. I realized I wanted to be with you then, when I realized you'd never leave me no matter what dumb thing I do."

Ressler cups her jaw in his large, warm hand and she finally turns to look at him. He's smiling very softly, his usually hard features contorted into a soft expression. She's not seen him like this often, normally only so gentle with Sammy, and having such adoration aimed at her makes her heart beat fast.

He leans in to kiss her, but before their lips meet, there's a knock on the door.

Ressler jumps up. "I'm going to fucking kill him!" he shouts, stomping to the door in anger and frustration.  _Cock blocking, smarmy bastard!_ _  
_

_"_ Reddington, I swear to God - "

_Oh, that's_ not _Reddington!_

Shots ring out before Ressler has time to react, and he's pushed harshly to the side, his head connecting with the door jam as someone shoves past him and into the room.

The last thing he hears before passing out is Liz scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuuun! Sorry this took so long. Life has been nuts. I feel bad not updating as much as I should, but I promise I'm doing my very best! Also, I love this chapter, especially Reddington. :) Love him SO MUCH!
> 
> Please Review! I'll send a 2-3 paragraph sneak peak of the next chapter to those who review!


	10. Chapter 10

**_Previously..._ **

_Ressler cups her jaw in his large, warm hand and she finally turns to look at him. He's smiling very softly, his usually hard features contorted into a soft expression. She's not seen him like this often, normally only so gentle with Sammy, and having such adoration aimed at her makes her heart beat fast._

_He leans in to kiss her, but before their lips meet, there's a knock on the door._

_Ressler jumps up. "I'm going to fucking kill him!" he shouts, stomping to the door in anger and frustration. Cock blocking, smarmy bastard!_

_"Reddington, I swear to God - "_

_Oh, that's not Reddington!_

_Shots ring out before Ressler has time to react, and he's pushed harshly to the side, his head connecting with the door jam as someone shoves past him and into the room._

_The last thing he hears before passing out is Liz scream._

* * *

**June 15th, Ressler's Apartment, 1:10 PM**

Liz screams without thinking - panic overtakes her and she momentarily forgets all of her training, all of her badass-ery. She sees a man dressed in black shove through the door, fast and lithe, knock Ressler over, and come toward her, and she's ashamed to admit that her first reaction is to yell.

Her second reaction, however, is far more favorable.

_Stupid FBI agent_ , she chastises herself, moving her body to block the man in black's view of Sammy. In the next three seconds, she has her gun drawn and she's fired off three shots in rapid succession. She feels herself recoil as they hit wetly into the man's body, throwing him off balance. It's not a sound you ever get used to - the sound of metal digging into flesh, of blood beginning to pour from a wound. It's not a sight that you become easily accustomed to, either - the man hits the floor with a sickening 'thump' and Liz feels herself choke back her gag reflex as he twitches once, twice, before settling still on the ground.

"Ressler!" she shouts, dropping her gun and moving toward him. She passes the man in black, kicks his gun away from his hand (just in case, she'd seen enough spy movies to know that turning her back on an armed corpse was a bad idea, full stop) and bending to check his pulse before sighing in relief.  _No heartbeat_ , she thinks, and feels slightly less disgusted with herself this time than the last time she'd killed someone. She had a lot more to protect now.

Brushing the blood on her fingers onto her jeans, she drops down beside Ressler and cups his face in her hand.

"Ressler," she prods, tapping his cheek lightly with her fingers. She can see his eyes rolling around and knows he's coming to - he probably has a nice concussion from where he hit the corner of the wall, though. She uses her other hand to probe the back of his head, wincing when she feels blood.

"L... iz," he groans, and she shushes him, running her (still slightly shaking) fingers through his hair.

"Hey, Ress," she whispers, her voice shaking just as much as her fingers. She shifts slightly, and gently pulls him until his head rests in her lap. Sammy chooses this moment to begin crying (loudly) and Liz glances back to make sure he's OK. He's still sitting on the couch, and it doesn't look like he's going to be able to get far, but Liz recognizes that leaving Sammy unattended on the couch for a long time is a bad idea - she's already imagining him scooting his way to the edge and falling off.

She bites her lip and turns back to Ressler, she's torn - go get Sammy, or stay here?

Ressler, who is coming around more and more with each passing second, pulls himself into a sitting position. Liz falters, unsure where to put her hands as panic flows through her.

"Ressler! Don't move, you could be hurt, you - "

He cuts her off gently, reaching up and pressing two fingers to her lips. "M'fine," he says, breathing in and wincing (Liz knows his vision is probably swimming, he has a concussion for sure and moving is bad). "I have a concussion," he decides, licking his lips and leaning heavily against the wall. "But I'll be fine. Get Sammy," he says, nodding in the direction of the wailing baby. He winces as he nods. "And an ice pack," he adds weakly, and Liz chuckles a little, standing (a little more confident now that she knows Ressler is - more or less - going to be ok).

"Hey, baby," she whispers, scooping Sammy into her arms as she heads for the kitchen. Ressler doesn't have an ice pack, but he does have a bag of frozen peas, and that's close enough, really.

Liz is surprised when Sammy suddenly stops crying, intent on stealing the bag of peas from her hands. She hands it to him, smiling slightly. "Oh, you want to give Ressler his ice pack, don't you?"

"Ah bah bah," Sammy agrees, nodding and gripping the ice pack in both hands as he sniffles a little, trying to deal with the snot and tears he'd produced during his crying fest. Sniffling doesn't work, so he reaches an arm up and spreads the snot and tears around, coating his little shirt. Liz grabs a tissue as they head out of the kitchen, wiping his face and his hands the best she can. She smiles and kisses him on the head, glad to have his warm, solid weight in her arms as she walks back to Ressler.

She cringes a little as she steps over the body of the man in black (one of Anton's men, for sure) and marvels a little at the fact that Sammy seems to care less about the dead man on the living room floor than he does the bag of peas in his hand.

Liz leans down next to Ressler and puts a hand on his shoulder, nudging him to lean forward. He does and as Liz checks his head (a small cut, lots of blood, but head wounds bleed a lot - surely that's normal, right?) Sammy holds out the peas triumphantly and grins. "Ah!"

Ressler grins his thanks and grabs the bag, pressing it to his head and moaning happily as it soothes his aches. "Ah, God that feels good. We should call Reddington," he adds, and Liz nods (why didn't she think of that?) and fumbles for her phone. She deposits Sammy into Ressler's lap (the munchkin grabs onto Ressler's collar and hauls himself into a standing position, eager to help Ressler hold the bag of peas to his head) before grabbing her phone and walking into the living room where the dead body lies. She knows Reddington will want to ask her questions.

She hits speed dial number 3 and holds the phone to her ear, sighing as she lets herself fall onto the floor. She sits next to the dead man, and tries not to let the relief that's flooding her turn into tears.

Reddington picks up after two rings.

_"Ah, Lizzie, just who I was going to call!"_

Liz feels shocked for a moment that he doesn't seem to know about what happened - the man knows  _everything_! She doesn't let the shock hold her for long, however, and plows forward immediately.

"Reddington, we need Mr. Kaplan."

Her words (just as she'd intended) put Reddington on the defensive immediately.

_"What happened? Tell me everything. I'm already on my way."_

Liz didn't doubt that - from what she can hear, it sounds like they were already in the car when she called.  _Why was he going to call her_? she wonders, and tries not to let herself worry about it. "Ressler and I were... attacked. Someone knocked, and Ressler was upset so he forgot to check who it was and he opened the door."

Liz pauses here for a breath, because she's afraid she might cry, but  _dammit_ , she won't!

Reddington mistakes her silence.

_"Is Donald OK?"_

He sounds like he's prepared for the worst, but Liz is quick to reassure him. "No, no, everyone's fine - well, except for the man I killed."

From there, it's a quick back and forth between Reddington asking questions and Liz answering them. She can hear Reddington tell Dembe to call Mr. Kaplan as she answers one of his questions (what does the man look like) and feels even more intense relief than before.

"We screwed up, Red," she confides, and she can hear Reddington sigh on the other end.

" _It's perfectly alright,"_ he promises her.  _"Everyone is fine, and we may have a lead now. Keep an eye on dear Donald, we'll be there soon."_

As it turns out, Mr. Kaplan turns up before Reddington, and Liz lets her in, pointing to the man on the living room floor. By now, Ressler has moved to the couch, frozen peas still in place, with Sammy using the couch for support now as he helps press the peas against Ressler's sore head. Mr. Kaplan raises an eyebrow.

"Not even shaken. That is a boy who will grow up to be an FBI agent for sure," she comments, and Liz grins, because Mr. Kaplan is probably right - Sammy will either be a spy (Reddington's side of the job) or an FBI agent, like them -

The realization that, no, Sammy probably  _won't_  grow up to be an FBI agent  _because he's not theirs_  is a sudden weight slamming into Liz's chest. Sammy will grow up to be probably something else entirely, because he won't remember any of this, and he'll probably follow in the footsteps of his  _actual_  parents.

Feeling the sudden need to be near the baby, Liz joins Ressler on the couch, sweeping Sammy into her arms and holding him close. Ressler smiles sadly at her, as if he realizes what she's thinking about (he probably does).

"I won't clean anything until Mr. Reddington gets here," Mr. Kaplan informs them. "For now, tell me what happened, and don't leave out any details."

Liz launches into the story for the second time, and she's about halfway through when Reddington strolls through the door.

"Kate," he greets Mr. Kaplan. "Liz. Donnie."

"Ahhh!" Sammy squeals, holding out his hands and motioning for Reddington. The older man grins. "Ah, yes, dear Sammy, too," he says, reaching out and taking Sammy from Liz. "How could I forget?"

"Low level," Mr. Kaplan cuts in, circling the body as Reddington joins her. "He is not high in Anton's ranks. I would venture to say he wasn't supposed to make contact, either, or else Anton would have sent more than one..."

Mr. Kaplan's voice begins to grow softer as Reddington asks questions. Sammy, from his perch in Reddington's arms, looks down on the proceedings with interest, and it's a testament to Liz's exhaustion after the events of the day that she doesn't snatch Sammy away from the dead body. He likely won't remember, anyway, she reasons with herself, tiredly laying her head on Ressler's shoulder. She watches as Reddington and Mr. Kaplan do their thing, feeling herself grow more and more tired by the moment.

As she begins nodding off (really, she shouldn't, considering the danger, but she feels incredibly safe with Reddington there) Mr. Kaplan finishes packing the body up (she'd, thank  _God_ , said that she wouldn't feel comfortable dissolving it in Ressler's bathtub).

Reddington joins them, sitting in the chair across from the couch, a dozing Sammy in his arms. He smiles fondly at the boy, then turns his attention to Liz and Ressler.

"How's your head, Donald?" he asks pleasantly, and as Mr. Kaplan and her henchmen leave the apartment, locking it behind them, a sudden silence descends over the apartment.

"Better," he admits, though he's still holding the (mostly thawed) bag of peas against it. "Probable concussion. I've had worse."

Reddington nods, accepting that, and then he sighs heavily. Liz doesn't think she can handle any more excitement or bad news, but finds herself asking, anyway.

"What is it now?" she asks, because she knows Reddington still has something to tell them, something important and something he doesn't like having to reveal.

"Remember how I said I was just getting ready to call you when you called me? Well, we had another delivery at the Post Office," he admits, and Liz feels her heart speeding up, because they were failing Sammy's parents (and Sammy, too, by letting people who would kill him into the apartment). She feels dread settle in the pit of her stomach as Reddington takes a breath to continue.

"It's a ... little more than usual. We're not sure yet if it belongs to James. It could be a scare tactic - designed to put us off our game so it's easier to breach our defenses - "

Ressler sighs, putting the bag of peas in his lap and preparing himself for bad news. "Reddington, what was it?"

Reddington meets their eyes, his arms wrapped protectively around Sammy, covering his ears as if the baby could hear and understand his words.

"It was a heart. We received a human heart this afternoon after you left."

Liz gasps, and Ressler purses his lips. He's angry, she can tell (angry at himself, she's sure, because it's Ressler and he blames himself for a lot of things that are out of his control).

Reddington finishes, "We're afraid Anton might be killing James' family off, and Sammy will be next on his list."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like all I do is apologize about not updating. I don't know what's been up with me these past few weeks, but I'm finding it really hard to write (and do a lot of other things). I hate to use the word depressed, because I doubt I am, but I'm really struggling here. Thanks to EVERYONE who has been so supportive of me and this story. I appreciate every kind word! I'm sure I'll come out of this summer funk soon enough. ;)
> 
> Pleas Review! (A sneak peak will be sent 48ish hours before the new chapter if you review!)


	11. Chapter 11

**June 15th, 10:45 PM (The Post Office)**

It is little more than an hour later when Ressler, Liz, and Sammy walk into the Post Office. Liz had wanted to wait until morning (the heart wasn't going anywhere) because of Ressler's injury, but of course Ressler had demanded that he was fine (and he seemed to be doing okay, except when he stood up too quickly and looked a little green around the edges). The rest of the team is waiting for them, having been called in from their warm beds to discuss recent developments - the arrival of the unknown heart.

Ressler is holding Sammy when they walk in, and he shifts the baby to his left arm, tucking his face inside his suit jacket to hide the baby's curious eyes from the most recent development in their case - the (still warm) human heart. They are in the lab, the heart enclosed in a glass container. Aram is circling it uncertainly, wincing each time his eyes fall on the red mass. Ressler feels his stomach turn, but he's seen worse (more blood, more gore, more pan and suffering and, really, the heart is nothing compared to some of the things he's seen befall people) but Liz hasn't. She gags immediately, turning around to get herself under control. Ressler wants to reach out and comfort her, but just then Samar begins talking.

"It came in two hours ago," she confirms. "Blood type does not match James. It does, however, match Sherry's blood type. We're running DNA now to confirm," she recites, and leans against the counter containing the heart. (Ressler would venture to say she's seen her fair share of blood and destruction, as well. Aram and Liz seem to be the only uncomfortable ones).

Ressler frowns, tucking Sammy's head back against his shoulder when the baby registers the voice of Samar and tries to get a look at her. He doesn't want to give Sammy nightmares, or scar him for life during the few short weeks he has him, if he can help it. "Why would Anton kill Sherry?" he asks, confusion coloring his tone. His eyes flicker to Liz as she moves to stand by his side, still a little green (and avoiding looking at the heart as much as she can) but more composed than before. "Surely killing Sherry makes it  _harder_  for Anton to get what he wants from James."

Reddington shifts from one foot to the other, and Ressler thinks that the expression on his face looks like  _embarrassment_ , but  _no_ , Raymond Reddington has probably never been embarrassed in his entire, Godforsaken life. But there's a tiny tinge of pink on the older man's cheeks when he begins speaking.

"I must apologize. I believe that I ... incorrectly interpreted Anton's intentions."

Ressler is shocked, but ever-so-slightly less so than everyone else, so he has the pleasure of taking in everyone else's surprise at Reddington's apology. He grins a little when Aram drops the pen he is holding and Samar chokes on an intake of breath.

"How so?" he finally asks, because he is the only one capable of speaking. He wants very badly to mock Reddington (payback for the years spent making jokes at Ressler's expense). But then his gaze flickers to the heart on the table and Sammy squirms in his grasp, and there are more important things at stake.

"I was operating on the assumption that Anton wanted something from James. James caused Anton to lose his business - his livelihood, his fortune, his everything. I made assumptions based on what I knew of him, which was admittedly very little. It caught me by surprise when I had Dembe run James' finances and history. There was  _nothing_... " Reddington pauses and purses his lips. He frowns, shaking his head. "There was nothing to suggest that James had  _anything_ of value to Anton. No money, connections, history with anyone Anton might want for his own personal reasons. There was nothing for Anton  _to_  torture out of him, or his family."

Ressler puzzles over this for a second, then frowns. "Wait. Are you telling me you've had us operating under a false assumptions for... what,  _two weeks_?" He can feel his irritation growing as he realizes that his life, Liz's life, and Sammy's life have been in danger for the past dozen or so days and Reddington was holding back information.

"Now, Donald - "

"No! Don't you 'Donald' me," he growls, cutting the older man off. The fact that he has his hands full of baby is probably the only thing that keeps him from clocking their confidential informant. "Reddington. We help you, you help us, that's the deal. But we can not do our jobs to the best of our ability if we don't have all the information. You can't hold back  _anything_! Liz and Sammy could have  _died_ , I could have died - "

This time it's Reddington cutting Ressler off. He's smiling, which only serves to fuel Ressler's fire.

"Donald! Do calm down," he admonishes, and he chuckles. "I'm amused and ... have this strange, warm feeling blossoming in my chest at the fact that you care so much for Lizzy and Samuel." He's grinning and enjoying himself far too much for Ressler's liking.

"Boys," Liz cuts in, rolling her eyes as she walks between them, and it's not until that moment that Ressler realizes how close he'd gotten to Reddington. "Cut it out. Reddington, tell us  _everything_ , or so help me..."

Reddington holds his hands up in surrender, chuckling. "As I was trying to say, I didn't have Dembe gather this information until yesterday. I was going to tell you when the time was right."

Ressler relaxes a small amount as Reddington motions toward Aram. The younger man moves to the computer in the room, clicking a few keys. He pulls up a file, and as he's navigating, Reddington continues talking.

"I now am operating under the assumption that Anton wants revenge. The death of Sherry proves that. We know he has James and we're worried he's coming after Sammy."

"We need to close this case, right now," Ressler sighs, his voice wavering only slightly as he holds Sammy close. The baby is getting sleepy (it's been an exciting day, and it's far past his bedtime). "If we don't, Sammy isn't going to have any parents left to go back to."

The room falls silent, even Aram's shuffling coming to a halt. Ressler's comment seems to sour the mood, and when the talking resumes, it's more hushed.

Reddington speaks first. "We need to draw Anton out. We've caught several of his men, but it's amounted to nothing."

Aram clears his throat, and everyone turns their attention toward him. He grins for a brief second, then his smile falls as he gestures to Liz and Ressler. "Could we just, uh, leak information as to where Agents Ressler and Keen are? He wants Sammy, to torture James before killing him, right? That's what he's going for, revenge?"

Reddington nods, motioning for Aram to continue. The younger man holds up a finger to let them know they should wait a second while he continues typing on his computer. On the screen, he pulls up three photos. "Uh, each time Agents Ressler and Keen were followed, that we know of, we've only seen Anton's men, not him, right?"

Everyone nods. Aram continues. "I was wondering, because Anton doesn't seem like the type to, uh, sit in the shadows? I looked at all the security cameras in the areas where Anton's men were seen, and - " he holds up his finger again, and a few seconds later, new photos fly up onto the screen. "Anton was always there. All three times, just in the background. I think he sent his men first, to clear the area, you know. His men were never able to isolate Sammy, so he never came out of the shadows. But he was  _there_. If we can get him to come after Sammy again, and rig the scene, make it look like his men have gotten the best of Agent Keen, make it seem like Sammy is alone, Anton will come out of the shadows."

Complete silence falls over the Post Office after Aram finishes speaking. He looks around nervously, his eyes wide as he flickers his gaze from one agent to the next. Samar is nodding in agreement, Liz and Ressler are hesitantly wrapping their minds around the idea, and Reddington is grinning like a proud father.

Director Cooper is the one to finally speak up, though no one knows quite when he walked in the room. "Do it," he demands, and as his words wash over the crowd, everyone begins moving and talking at once, pulling a plan together.

Ressler knows it makes the most sense, but he can't help the heavy feeling that settles in his gut as they finalize the plan.

 _James is all Sammy has left,_ he worries, and he can't help but wonder what will happen to the boy should his father not make it out of this alive.

**June 16th, 7:45 AM (On the Road)**

"So let me go over this again," Liz says, shaking Sammy's bottle to mix the formula before handing it into the back seat. Sammy gurgles happily, kicking the back seat. His car seat is rear facing, so Liz has to contort her body around the front seat to make sure he latches on and is suckling correctly. "We're headed up to your cabin in the woods - which Anton should already know about - where we will wait like sitting ducks until Anton and his men find us. Then!" she pauses, holding up a finger to stop Ressler, who has opened his mouth to speak. "Then! We leave Sammy  _alone_  so Anton can grab him. Whose idea was this again?"

Ressler chuckles, and Liz slaps his shoulder. "I'm serious. It sounded like a fantastic plan last night at midnight, but right now it sounds crazy. Like, super crazy. I can't believe we're going to put Sammy in danger like that."

Ressler sighs, rubbing his shoulder gently. "He'll be fine, Liz. Reddington, Dembe, and the full force of the FBI will descend as soon as Anton is confirmed on site. It's probable that Anton won't even see Sammy."

"We're using him as  _bait_ ," Liz growls, re-positioning Sammy's bottle as it slips from his rosy lips.

Ressler can't argue, because they  _are._ "He'll be fine. Neither of us will let anything happen to him, hmm?" he murmurs, reaching out to gently grasp Liz's hand in his own. He offers her a tight lipped smile, and she returns it half-heartedly. He squeezes her hand tightly before returning his own to the wheel.

"He's just lost  _so much_  already," Liz whispers, listening to Sammy's happy, sleepy sounds from the backseat. He's still slurping on his bottle, but Liz can tell from how his breathing is evening out and how his little grunts are growing quieter that he's falling asleep. He does that a lot, she reflects, smiling to herself, after his breakfast. "He's such a little  _man_  already," she muses out loud, and Ressler turns toward her, glancing at her in amusement as he turns onto a small, dirt road.

"How so?" he questions.

Liz reaches into the back and gently tugs the bottle out of Sammy's hands. He gives one small, sleepy grunt before sighing deeply and squirming into a more comfortable position in his car seat.

"He eats a ton and falls asleep immediately after meal time," she says, and she chuckles as the car slows down. Ressler shifts the car into park in front of a small, homey looking cabin. He leans back in his seat and sighs.

"Come on," he says, opening his door and stepping out, letting it close noisily behind him. "Let's check the perimeter and settle in. Sammy will have someone to go home to if it's the last thing I ever do. We'll keep him safe," he says, and he holds out his hand, letting Liz grasp onto it tightly as she holds the sleeping baby on her shoulder. If she leans into him slightly for comfort, letting Sammy rest between them as his hot breath puffs out onto their necks, neither of them mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 chapters and an epilogue to go! I'm sorry it's been a while since I've updated, hopefully I'll get back on track now. After I finish this and When I See You Again, I may take a tiny break (until I come up with a new story idea, I'm currently all out - my muse is drying up without Blacklist to encourage me!)
> 
> Please Review! (I realize that not updating makes me lose readers, but if you're still reading, please let me know what you think!)


	12. Chapter 12

**June 16th, 7:30 PM (Ressler's Cabin)**

_Ressler's cabin is cozy_ , Liz muses silently as she walks from room to room once more. The colors are earth-tones, greens and browns just gentle enough to be comfortable. She especially likes the forest green in the bedroom, though she hasn't spent as much time in there as she would like.

" _Waaaahh!_ "

She finds it hard to focus on the decor, however, as Sammy lets out another loud wail and angrily bumps his head into hers. She winces, using the hand that's not holding him firmly to her body to wrap around his little skull to prevent further bumps. He's thrashing angrily in her arms, but she's learned from experience during the past hour that if she puts him down, he becomes (impossibly) louder. He's cranky, yet he wants comfort, and she's finding it hard to find a balance.

In fact she has, for the better part of the last hour, been bouncing a fussy Sammy in her arms as Ressler putters around the kitchen, trying to find something for dinner amongst the bare essentials he'd left the last time he'd visited his cabin.

"Shh, it's fine, Sammy. You're ok, you're just being dramatic," she tries to reason as she bounces Sammy in her arms. He's been crying for almost an hour, and neither she nor Ressler can find anything wrong with him. He's clean, warm, and as far as she can tell, uninjured. Despite her attempts to calm the baby, however, he doesn't listen and continues shrieking loudly, his tiny face contorted in pain and anger as he beats his little fists on her shoulder. She moans quietly, feeling an ache beginning to form behind her eyes. "Oh, my God, you've been such a good baby I was lulled into a false sense of security. I thought I was actually getting a little bit  _good_ at this parenting thing!"

Ressler's laugh causes her to tear her gaze from Sammy's unhappy form. She looks up at her partner, offering him a small scowl.

"I come in peace," he says, holding out his hand. In his palm is a small, blue circle filled with gel - a teething ring, she realizes. She accepts his peace offering and grabs the ring. It's frozen and uncomfortable in her grip, but it must not be foreign to Sammy, because as soon as the ring touches the baby's cheek, he registers the cold and his crying ceases immediately as he gums toward the ring, latching on and holding it with both hands as he chews. He looks up at Ressler with wonder-filled eyes, tear tracks staining his bright red cheeks as he slobbers around the ring.

"You're fine, you're just teething, huh, buddy?" Ressler says, reaching out and taking Sammy into his arms. The baby leans his head against Ressler's shoulder and sniffs messily, leaving snot trails on the plaid material. Ressler winces but makes no move to give the baby back.

Liz smiles at them both, kissing first Sammy's cheek, then Ressler's.

"I'll finish dinner," she offers as Ressler begins walking in circles around the room, a motion that they've found calms Sammy.

"Grilled cheese!" he shouts after her. "It may be burning!"

Liz rolls her eyes but quickens her pace toward the kitchen. She finds the two sandwiches perfectly golden and quickly takes them out of the pan, opening the cabinets in curiosity as the sight of the melting cheese reminds her of her favorite childhood comfort meal. Grinning, she reaches in and grabs a can of tomato soup, popping the lid and pouring it in a saucepan, quickly whisking in some milk and sighing in happiness as she watches it froth.

After the past hour, she could use some comfort.

By the time Ressler walks into the kitchen, Sammy sleeping soundly on his shoulder and the teething ring slipping from his grasp, the soup has been put in two bowls and the sandwiches are cool enough to eat.

"Would you... grab that?" Ressler asks, angling his shoulder toward her just as Sammy's ring slips from his exhausted fingers. Liz catches it just in time and rinses it off before sticking it back in the freezer - they'll need it again when Sammy wakes up.

"Want me to put him down?" she asks, holding her arms out toward the sleeping baby. But Ressler shakes his head, settling into one of the chairs and eyeing the soup and sandwich in front of him hungrily. He begins eating with one hand, tearing his sandwich into strips and dunking them in the warm, red soup. He hums happily around the first bite, feeling the effects of skipping breakfast as he swallows the warm food.

Liz is sitting down to begin her own meal when he finally speaks around a second bite of dinner.

"Not letting him out of my sight," he says, and were it not for his gentle reminder, Liz wouldn't have remembered the fact that they were currently being hunted, using baby Sammy as bait.

Suddenly, she doesn't feel so hungry. She sets down her sandwich and breathes out heavily. "Are you sure we're doing the right thing here?" she asks quietly, picking the crust off of her sandwich to keep her hands busy. Ressler swallows his bite and motions toward her plate.

"Eat up. You'll need your strength and energy when Anton's men get here," he says, and realizing he's right, she takes a small bite, trying to reason with her stomach as it protests. "I'm _not_  sure we're doing the right thing," he adds, finishing his sandwich and moving on to his soup. "But it's the only plan we have and James doesn't have much time left. Sammy... he has to have someone to go back to," he says, and his voice is quiet. "I won't let him go into the system. So, no, I don't like what we're doing. But it's the only option right now."

Liz nods - she doesn't like the plan, but she also doesn't want Sammy to be alone in the world when this is all over. She takes another bite of her sandwich, and despite her uneasiness, each swallow becomes easier, and before she speaks again, they're both finished with dinner and Sammy is stirring on Ressler's shoulder.

A question bubbles in her throat a she watches the baby nuzzle his face into Ressler's neck, seeking out warmth and comfort. It's a question that's come up in her mind more than once, but one she's been afraid to ask. "If we don't save James in time..." she trails off, standing to get feet and grabbing their dishes. She doesn't want to meet his eyes, because she's afraid of his answer (and she's afraid she already know what it will be).

"We will," Ressler assures her, and to keep her hands and mind busy, she rinses their dishes and pulls Sammy's teething ring from the freezer. She also grabs a prepared bottle from the fridge, although if Sammy's tantrum earlier was anything to go by, he won't want to eat because his gums are hurting so badly.

She sits down heavily in her chair and meets his gaze. He's gently patting Sammy on the back to soothe him (he hasn't worked up to full tantrum mode yet) and Liz wonders if Ressler even knows what he's doing as he sways from side to side to keep Sammy happy.

"But  _if we don't_... " she begins again, and Ressler breaks their gaze as he hands a sleepy Sammy his teething ring again. "Would it really be so bad... I mean, Sammy wouldn't be alone -" she takes a deep breath, afraid of voicing the words, of making a fleeting thought an actual option. "If - if we kept him."

She knows she's taking a risk. A little bit of kissing and a few declarations of love are one thing, but mentioning  _a baby_. It's a scary and wonderful idea all at once. The idea just seems  _right_.

Sammy, with  _them_.

Forever.

Ressler's eyes snap up, and his fingers fumble on the teething ring, losing their grip for a few seconds in which Sammy protests loudly as he kicks Ressler's stomach. He quickly recovers and returns the teething ring to Sammy's lips, which placates the baby for the time being.

It's to the sounds of Sammy gumming on his teething ring that Liz realizes what a huge mistake she's made in suggesting such a thing. Of course Ressler won't want to adopt a baby with her, they've only been ... what, dating? There have been no dates with a baby in the house. Aware of each other's mutual love for less than  _a week_. She doesn't blame him for not wanting to -

"Liz."

She realizes she hasn't been breathing for the last ten or so seconds when Ressler snaps her out of her trance. She looks up, and he's  _smiling_  now.

"Give me a second to process before you panic, geez," he jokes, and she can tell he senses her nervousness because he's smiling in the way he know calms her down. "I think... God, I hate to even be considering the fact that we won't save James. But I think ... I would like that."

Liz breaks out into a huge grin, and it's to that scene that Raymond Reddington walks in.

"You  _must_  let me in on the joke," he requests, standing in the doorway, holding onto the wall with one hand and twirling his fedora with the other. Ressler rolls his eyes and re-positions the baby on his shoulder as he stands up. Sammy yells in protest, holding onto his teething ring more securely as he's jostled about. Reddington offers Sammy a small smile. "Because the FBI men outside are  _dreadfully_  boring. They refuse to hold a conversation and insist on staying hidden."

Liz exhales and has to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes. She turns toward Reddington, her heart still hammering in her chest from the scene he had walked in on.

"Any news?" she asks, instead of saying  _get the hell out, Ressler and I were talking about relationship sensitive material_ , like she wanted to.

Ressler has no such qualms. "What do you want?" he snaps, and his loud voice startles Sammy, who begins whimpering once more. Ressler winces, because the silence had been nice after an entire morning of crying, and he doesn't want to ruin it now.

"I wanted to update you on the happenings surrounding your temporary little family," Reddington says, not in the least perturbed by Ressler's crankiness. "Dembe and I are set up just off the main road, and the FBI has the cabin surrounded. You're covered from every angle and we'll alert you if we notice anything out of the ordinary. Relax, enjoy the cabin, and try not to worry."

Liz nodded, though she knew there was little to no chance of not worrying. She doesn't say anything, however, so the room delves into awkward silence, with Ressler and Liz shifting awkwardly from one foot to another while Reddington grins like the cat who got the canary.

"Well," he finally says, placing his hat back on his head and offering them one more knowing grin. "I suppose I will head back out. Boring through it may be."

"You do that," Ressler says, patting Sammy on the back as he raises an eyebrow.

"Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he chirps, waving behind him as he walks out the door. Ressler glares at Reddington's retreating form until he's out of view, and Liz breaks into laughter, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles.

"Oh, my God, he has the  _worst_  timing," she says, laughing harder when Sammy joins her, at first startled by the sound of her laughter but then deciding to join in. He drops his teething ring and Ressler goes to grab it before giving up, joining in on the merriment.

By the time they settle down, Sammy has the hiccups and is happy enough to reach for his bottle as his bright blue eyes flicker between open and closed. Liz hands the bottle off to Ressler as Sammy gives off a tiny, sleepy baby yawn.

"Bedtime?" she asks, and Ressler nods in agreement. Sammy will get sleepy, they both know, after his dinner bottle, and because he's teething and they know he won't sleep well, they both jump at the chance to get him down early.

"For me, too, I think," Ressler chimes in, yawning as he shuffles toward the bedroom where they have Sammy's Pack 'n' Play set up. "I haven't slept well in nearly a week. I'll be no good to anyone if Anton shows and I can't keep my eyes open."

Liz nods in agreement, and for the next several minutes, they go about their  _new_  nighttime routine: bathing Sammy, dressing Sammy, rocking him to sleep (Liz sings him a song while Ressler is in the bathroom), and then turning off the lights as Sammy's bottle slips from his chubby little hands. There's nothing quite like a baby sleeping, Liz thinks as she tucks his blanket around his little body. His cheeks are rosy and his little pink lips are half open. Baby snores are adorable, too, and the little sounds Sammy makes are no exception.

Ressler yawns once more and Liz giggle quietly, grabbing his hand and hauling him toward the bed.

"Come on," she whispers. "I have plans for that fantastically comfortable looking bed."

Ressler raises one eyebrow, suddenly no longer sleepy as he lets Liz lead him to the other side of the room. He kicks off his shoes and socks and gives Liz a playful grin.

"Oh, really? Well, do share with the class."

"I have plans to do something tonight that I've wanted to do for a long time."

"I swear, if you say _take up knitting_  right now, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive you," Ressler deadpans, only half joking. He'd become one hundred percent interested in the proceedings as soon as Liz had mentioned the large, lush bed.

Liz grins as her knees hit the bed and she sits down. Her hands reach up and play with the top button of Ressler's shirt. "What I have in mind is a little more... strenuous."

Ressler grins now: there's no mistaking Liz's intentions, and he is fully on board.

"Well then we should get on with it."

"Before Sammy wakes up," Liz amends, and Ressler cuts her off as he leans forward and kisses her neck.

"Shut up, I'm trying to get you in bed."

"I'm  _already_  in bed."

Ressler isn't sure how to get her to stop talking, so he does the only thing he knows for sure will cut her words off. He covers her lips with her own as he gently lowers her to the bed.

**2:10 AM (Ressler's Cabin)**

Ressler is immediately awake as the sound of glass shattering echoes throughout the house. He rolls out of bed and grabs the closest article of clothing (a pair of his sweatpants that Liz had been wearing) and pulls them on his naked frame. He grabs his t-shirt and what he assumes are Liz's panties and leans over, grasping her arm tightly to wake her without making much noise.

"Shh. Someone's in the house," he whispers, and thrusts the clothing at her as he jogs silently to the other side of the room, gently grabbing Sammy into his arms. By the time he's back at the bed, Liz is dressed. He passes her the baby and grabs her shoulders, peering into her eyes in the semi-darkness.

"Go. Into the bathroom. Keep Sammy safe."

He knows part of the plan was to let Anton's men see Sammy, but he finds that, in the middle of the night, he can't bring himself to let these dirtbags get their eyes - much less their hands - on the sweet, sleeping baby.

Liz nods and holds Sammy close to her as she moves swiftly and silently into the bathroom. Once Ressler hears the lock click into place, he exits the bedroom, gun drawn from where he'd placed it on the night stand the previous night. He clears the hallway and walks slowly toward the living room, where he can hear voices. Two, maybe three people, from the different accents and tones he can make out.

_Riiiiing!_

Ressler hisses in surprise and anger as the phone in his sweatpants pocket rings. He hears the voices in the next room immediately go silent as he reaches into the pocket of his pants, grabbing the phone. He almost ends the call, but when he sees the name  _Reddington_  flashing across the screen, he flicks the answer button and presses it to his ear, not offering a greeting as he balances the phone on his shoulder and backs slowly down the hallway, both hands on his gun.

" _They're in the house."_

Well, no shit, Sherlock.

Reddington continues. " _Anton is there, too. Don't let him escape. We're on our way, less than a minute out."_

The phone goes dead, and Ressler lets it drop to the floor as he backs himself up into the bedroom.

He realizes too late that he's backed himself into a corner. Going into the bathroom is not an option - Liz and Sammy are hiding in there - and he realizes he's out of places to hide when three grinning faces enter the bedroom.

 _Oh, God_ , he thinks, and raises his gun, firing off shots in quick succession, hoping to take one or two of them out to give Liz a fighting chance.

The gunshots echo loudly in the room, but the sound of the bathroom door being kicked open as Ressler falls to the floor, his shoulder on fire and his vision blurring, is the loudest sound of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuun! I like happy endings, so keep that in mind as you consider lighting me on fire for that ending. :)
> 
> Please Review!


	13. Chapter 13

_**Previously...** _

_"They're in the house."_

_Well, no shit, Sherlock._

_Reddington continues. "Anton is there, too. Don't let him escape. We're on our way, less than a minute out."_

_The phone goes dead, and Ressler lets it drop to the floor as he backs himself up into the bedroom._

_He realizes too late that he's backed himself into a corner. Going into the bathroom is not an option - Liz and Sammy are hiding in there - and he realizes he's out of places to hide when three grinning faces enter the bedroom._

_Oh, God, he thinks, and raises his gun, firing off shots in quick succession, hoping to take one or two of them out to give Liz a fighting chance._

_The gunshots echo loudly in the room, but the sound of the bathroom door being kicked open as Ressler falls to the floor, his shoulder on fire and his vision blurring, is the loudest sound of all._

* * *

**June 18th, 12:12 PM (Bethesda Hospital)**

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The steady rhythm of the machines surrounding her comfort Liz. She's curled into one of those tiny hospital chairs, her arms folded on top of Ressler's crisp, white bed. She sighs, resting her head on her arms, her eyes toward his face (which is covered in tubes and wires passing through to bring continued life to his body).

She doesn't realize she's crying until Reddington walks up behind her, a gentle hand on her shoulder as he stands stoically, staring at Ressler's white face and the swath of bandages covering his chest and neck.

"He's going to be fine," Reddington says simply, and Liz nods, brushing at her eyes with closed fists. She wants Ressler to wake up, but not - because when he does, she'll have to tell him -

"He came out of surgery an hour ago. They said the bullet passed clean through, but that it tore up a lot on the way out," she says instead, trying not to focus on the empty ache in her arms, her chest. There's no warm body filling her arms, no sleepy sighs and warm puffs of baby breath on her neck. She's crying again (loud, hiccuping sobs) as Reddington pulls her into a hug.

"I didn't mean Ressler," he clarifies, and Liz lets herself collapse into his embrace, crying openly as she tries to block out flashes of the night before -

_Ressler screaming, in pain and in panic - his last words a shout to her to run away, get away, save Sammy._

"I l-lost him," she says finally, and it's a whisper, a confession. Reddington stills for a second, and she's afraid he's going to pull away, but then a drop hits her cheek and she knows he's crying, too, and that makes it so much worse.

_Sammy screaming - a sound she'd never heard from him, terrified and completely betrayed as she allows him to be ripped from her arms -_

"He'll be fine," Reddington says again, snapping her out of her thoughts. "I have my best men, and Samar, on it. We got some of his men - we're  _going_  to find out where they went, and then we'll save both Sammy and James."

_"SAMMY!"_

_The sound of her own voice, broken and torn, as Sammy is taken from the room, the man left behind to deal with her grinning in a disgustingly smug way, his breath a laugh and his finger playing with the trigger -_

He sounds  _so sure_ , Liz wants to believe him. But the silence in the room is so complete that she can't imagine what she'll do if Sammy truly is gone.

_"Say goodbye to your little family," the man sneers, and Liz tries to cover herself with her arms as the man pulls the trigger._

His little breaths, his sleepy snuffling as he curls into his favorite position. The sound of his cries, his laughter. She's unsure if she could give the baby back to his father without losing her shit, but she sure as hell can't live with herself knowing she let Sammy get taken away, possibly to his death.

_The man's body falls to the ground, and Liz is up before she knows what's going on, because she's not dead and her captor is, and she needs to go after Sammy -_

_Arms, surrounding her, holding her in place, keeping her from Sammy._

_"It's not use, they're gone."_

Her heart speeds up, and she hears noises in the room. She can't be sure of what they are, because between the tears that are running freely down her face and her own panic, she can't see straight. It's a panic attack, she realizes, and she's in a hospital, so she knows that she's being held down and given something to make her sleep, but she doesn't want to sleep and so she strikes out at anything within her reach. She knows she connects with her target, too, because she hears a muffled groan.

There's a sharp pain in her neck, and then the arms holding her are gone and replaced by a warm embrace. A familiar embrace.

"Get some rest, Lizzie," she hears, and the warm voice soothes her.

It's the last thing she hears before she falls asleep.

**4:05 PM (Reddington's Safe House)**

Aram tries not to wince as Samar walks out of the bedroom, gingerly wiping blood off of her fingers. He sees a lump of quivering pain in the room, tied to a chair, and he forces himself not to do something stupid, like vomit. He's been sitting in the living room, cringing every time there was a yell or a scream that had been caused - he knew - by one of his partners, for over three hours.

Samar spares him a glance, but looks away quickly, and Aram knows he hasn't hidden his fear or his his discomfort well, because she won't meet his eyes again.

"We have a location," she says instead, addressing Dembe, who has been waiting just as silently (though more patiently and with less cringing and twitching than Aram).

"I will tell Reddington," Dembe says simply, and pulls out his phone as he walks from the room.

The room is silent then, with Aram frozen on the couch and Samar wincing as she tries to pull the blood out from her fingernails. She hasn't cared before, and she wonders why she cares now, but she knows why and the reason is sitting about ten feet away from her, disgusted and terrified by her actions.

"Thank you," comes his quiet voice, and she freezes, the blood soaked cloth stilling as she lifts her head up, not letting herself look back but curious at what Aram is doing. But it doesn't sound like he's doing anything - she can't hear any noise so she doesn't think he's moved.

He speaks again, and when he does, she lowers her head and clutches the bloody cloth tighter.

"Thank you, for doing this. You're good at it, but I know you don't enjoy it. But you found Sammy for us, and that's all that matters," he says, and his voice is quiet. She  _does_  hear noise then, and she tenses as he nears. She turns around, and though he still looks scared of her - of her actions, she corrects herself, because he's too close to be actually scared of  _her -_ he smiles.

"It terrifies me," he says, and she winces and looks down. "What you do. What Agents Keen and Ressler do, what Reddington does. But I understand why and you could never change how I feel about you."

It's the perfect thing to say, she realizes, because she'll never change who she is and what she does, and he's telling her he accepts it.

She rests her head on his chest, and he doesn't even wince when the bloody cloth touches him. Instead, he pulls her into his arms and hugs her - a move she realizes he's nervous about, because his heart is beating fast and he's shaking a little bit.

"Liz and Ressler aren't complete without Sammy," he says. "And we aren't complete without them. So thank you, for keeping the team together."

They stand like that for only mere seconds, but it's enough, she realizes as Dembe walks back into the room, holding out his phone to her, because she has the resolve to keep going despite the exhaustion and the mental strain of torturing another (admittedly evil) human being. So as she pulls herself from Aram's arms, she takes the phone and talks into it with an urgency she didn't realize was there before.

"He gave us a location, a warehouse on Barrow Street, across from..."

**5:10 PM (Ressler's Hospital Room)**

Reddington walks in and is completely unsurprised to see Liz sitting by Ressler's bed, even though he had personally seen to it that another bed be pulled into the room. She'd been asleep when he'd last seen her, knocked out from sedative they'd given her when she'd begun panicking.

"How is he?" he asks, and Liz regards him sleepily from her post.

"Better," she says, and then yawns and stretches, reaching for a coffee cup on Ressler's bedside table. She takes a long draw from it and meets his gaze with sad, hollow eyes. It looks like she's been crying again. "The doctor says he may wake up soon, his vitals are all good and he's breathing on his own," she recites, motioning toward Ressler's face, where there used to be an intubation tube. Now he only has a nasal cannula, and Reddington nods, happy with Ressler's medical progress.

"Good. Let's go find Sammy so he can be comforted by your presence as well as Sammy's when he wakes up."

It's offhanded, the way he says it, and it has the desired effect, because Liz snaps her head around, meeting his gaze with a shocked expression (which is a million times better than the hollow, empty expression she wore before).

"You know where he is?" she asks, and she's already fumbling her shoes back on, grabbing her coat.

"Samar was able to get a location from one of Anton's men. We're hoping they're still there, and with the condition I assume James is in, I imagine it'd be harder to move him than what it's worth."

Liz nods, pushing her arms into her jacket and then pausing. She leans back and presses a kiss to Ressler's forehead, letting her fingers linger on his cheek for a moment.

"He'll be safe?" she asks, and Reddington nods.

"I have men all throughout this hospital. No one gives him medication or checks his vitals without permission from my men."

Liz nods, comforted by the fact that Ressler has joined her on Red's  _keep alive at all costs_  list.

"Great. Then, where are we going?"

**6:45 PM (Anton's Location)**

Liz's heart is beating fast, her fingers shaking on her gun. She's pressed up against a concrete wall, the sharp edges of her bullet proof vest digging into her back as she tries to breathe slowly, tries to calm herself down so she doesn't accidentally shoot something she's not meaning to shoot.  _Sammy and James are inside_ , she reminds herself, and desperately hopes it's true.

One of Reddington's men gives the signal, and Liz feels like throwing up as suddenly they're inside, surrounded by darkness and the residue from the smoke bomb that had been tossed in as a diversion.

Gunshots ring through the air, and she pushes through the memories, the sickening feelings that rise in her as she remembers more important gunshots that had rung out less than a day ago. A man screams, a final gunshot silences him, and suddenly the warehouse is enveloped in silence.

It doesn't last long, because the search of the warehouse eventually turns up fruitless, judging by the eventual shout of, "He's not here!"

Liz almost falls to the ground, bile rising in her throat as she pushes through the smoke and into the main room of the warehouse.

But then she realizes that "he" must mean Anton, because there  _he_ is, wrapped warmly in Reddington's arms.

Reddington is moving toward her, but she's frozen on the spot, unable to move or choke down the emotion rising in her.

"Here," Reddington says gently, and he helps her grasp onto the warm baby. Sammy protests softly until he turns around and sees Liz, and then his bright blue eyes light up and he's opening and closing his fists, wanting to be in her arms. He yells at Reddington in his indignant baby voice when the older man doesn't pass him over quickly enough.

Suddenly, Liz is in overdrive, checking Sammy over for any sort of injury, a plan that Sammy isn't on board with. He kicks her in the stomach and reaches out his pudgy little fists again, wanting to be held close, and  _God_ , there's nothing Liz wants more but she has to make sure he's OK first.

"He's fine, he's fine," Reddington reassures her, and she finally clutches Sammy to her chest, feelings she didn't know she possessed overtaking her as her baby is safe once again. She's crying again, but these are tears of happiness and relief, and she doesn't care if she looks weak in front of Reddington and all his men, because  _Sammy is safe_.

"Thank you," she chokes out, and Reddington nods, a small smile on his lips.

"There's more," he says, and he puts a hand on the small of her back to lead her further in the room. Her feelings of relief and happiness turn sour, and bile rises in her throat once more when she sees the body of James Madison. He's alive, she realizes, but just barely. He's being secured to a stretcher by Reddington's people, and he's clearly in pain with each move. He winces and he seems to be crying, but as she gets closer, his attention turns from his injuries to  _her_ , and suddenly he's meeting her eyes and Liz stops moving.

"Thank you," he says simply, and his lips move as if he wants to say more, but a nurse jabs his arm with a needle and suddenly his eyes are rolling back in his head and he's being stuffed into the ambulance that Liz hadn't realized had arrived.

She wants to say  _you're welcome_ , but she's finding it hard to press down the feelings of resentment, jealousy, and hatred, feelings she knows this man did nothing to deserve, but feelings she can't control because she knows now that she'll lose Sammy. Despite the fact that she has been working this whole time to save James Madison, she finds that the idea of giving Sammy back is too painful to process.

"Take me back to Ressler," she demands instead. Instead of saying things she'll regret, instead of feeling sorry for herself, instead of dwelling on the fear that closes over her suddenly.

Reddington simply nods.

It's not until they're in the car, headed back to the hospital with Sammy gripped tightly in her arms, that Reddington whispers his confession.

"It's hard," he begins, looking out the window, watching the buildings pass by. "When you have to give your child away. It haunts you for the rest of your life."

Liz doesn't respond. Instead, she holds Sammy closer and enjoys his warmth, the sweet, baby smell he gives off, and his soft, sleepy snores.

After all, she doesn't know how much more time she has left with him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no excuses for my actions! OVER A MONTH. Ah, well. My goal is to finish both stories before the next Blacklist episode, so I have less than two weeks, so HOPEFULLY you'll enjoy a lot of updates between now and then!
> 
> Please review!


	14. Chapter 14

**June 19th, 9:30 AM (Bethesda Hospital)**

Liz is at the hospital once more, walking through the bleached, white walls. Except this time, her arms are full of Sammy's warmth, his soft snores, and his warm breath is ghosting across her cheek.

She's walked this hall four times, each time unable to gather the courage to walk into Ressler's room. He's awake, she'd been told. He woke up right after you left. But she knows when she walks in, he'll see Sammy and his eyes will light up, because of course he feels like he failed them. They'd been cornered, and Liz and Sammy had been trapped, and the last thing Ressler had heard was her screaming as they'd broken into the bathroom and taken Sammy from her arms.

"Ma'am?"

Liz looks up suddenly, her hand stilling on Sammy's back where she'd been rubbing soothing circles. She meets the eyes of a tired looking nurse, who's poking her head out of Ressler's room.

"He's asking for you."

Liz nods - she knew he would, sooner or later, especially after Reddington had popped in to update him.

Time to face the music, she supposes.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she grips Sammy tighter and walks into Ressler's room. He's propped up against about a million pillows, sipping on cup of water. His eyes flash up to meet hers, and he's grinning widely as she walks into the room.

"Liz!" he shouts, and though she knows Reddington had told Ressler both she and Sammy were safe, there's still relief clear in his eyes as she walks closer. He makes a move to lean forward, but hisses in pain and leans back, panting but happy.

"Hey," she says softly, and she shifts Sammy in her arms, cradling his head gently as she lowers the baby into Ressler's lap. The older man is grinning widely, his uninjured arm moving slowly as he runs his fingers across Sammy's delicate face. The baby nuzzles into his touch, snoring as he shifts closer to the warmth Ressler offers.

"You found him," he says in quiet wonder, unable to tear his eyes from the baby. Liz nods, swallowing lump in her throat. "Reddington said that after I was shot, Sammy was taken. He said he just barely got there in time to save your life."

His eyes have taken on a slightly haunted look (how many times has he almost lost her? he can't keep count). She reaches over and takes his hand, entwining their fingers and letting out a deep sigh.

"We didn't just find Sammy," she begins, and Ressler looks up in surprise. "We found James, too."

She doesn't have to say anything more for Ressler to understand that her heart is breaking into a million pieces. She'd almost had this once, he mused, with Tom. A baby. A family. And she'd lost it when Tom betrayed her, when she realized that their relationship was a lie (not all of it, Ressler is man enough to admit that Tom really loved her, but love can't be based on lies or it will fall apart). And then Sammy had come along, and despite their better intentions, they'd both become deeply involved. They'd fallen in love with the baby Reddington has so carefully placed in their arms so many weeks ago.

"We'll be OK," he says quietly, because they will (he hopes). Or will they fall apart, too? Is Sammy the only thing holding them together? He refuses to believe it.

"We will," she echoes, and because time heals all wounds she knows it's the truth.

Sammy chooses that moment to open his bright blue eyes and smile up at Ressler sleepily. He reaches out a chubby fist and rests it on their entwined hands and Liz begins to cry.

_It's hard, when you have to give your child away. It haunts you for the rest of your life_.

**July 19th, 8:32 PM**

Liz has gone home for a change of clothes, and to bathe and change Sammy. She was coming back, she assured him. She'd bring Sammy's pack 'n' play, because they couldn't lose even a moment with him, not now, and Ressler is left alone in his room. The sun is setting, and he feels better than he did that morning, but as he tries to reach for his glass of ice chips, his shoulder reminds him that gunshots do not heal quickly and he grunts in pain and frustration.

"How the mighty have fallen," a voice chuckles, and Ressler looks up to see Reddington holding out his glass. He takes the criminal's offering, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of ice as Reddington makes himself at home in the chair that Liz had so recently vacated.

"Liz told you?"

"Depends," Ressler says, his voice quiet and free of any emotion. He crunches a piece of ice between his teeth with more force than necessary.

"About James."

"Yeah."

The two men are silent for a moment, and then Ressler laughs softly. "I know better than to get attached. It's why my mom never let me name any of the strays I insisted on bringing home. 'Once you name it you get attached, Donnie!' she'd say, and I'd try and find the kitten or puppy or whatever the hell kind of animal I'd brought home that week the next morning and it'd be gone."

"Did not naming them help?"

"Not a bit," Ressler confides, shaking his head. "I'd always go out and find another."

"Sammy's not replaceable," Reddington notes, and Ressler shakes his head.

"No, he's not."

"There once was a time, in Bali," Reddington begins, and his tone takes on a wistful edge as he begins talking. Ressler readies himself for one of Reddington's famous stories, but the man's next words take him off guard. "It wasn't long after I lost my family. A year, maybe two. I found comfort in many things - and women were no exception. But _this_ woman. This woman was... _exquisite_. She was beautiful and exotic and the perfect distraction. But when the light faded and the night was quiet, nothing, not even her presence, was enough. You can't escape your ghosts, Donald, and if you try everything will fall apart."

_You and Liz will fall apart_. He doesn't say it, but Ressler can hear the warning in Reddington's carefully crafted words.

"So what do you do, if pretending it isn't tearing you apart doesn't work?" he asks, his chest tight. He already knows they're going to lose Sammy. And he knows, he fears, that he might lose Liz, too.

Reddington looks thoughtful for a second, and the silence is uncomfortable so Ressler chews on another ice chip, the crunching noise too loud in the silent room. Finally, Reddington sighs. "Donald, I don't know if there is anything you can do. Be honest, be there, be willing to talk. Don't... bottle it up. You do that," he says, and raises his eyebrow. Donald huffs. He knows this about himself, of course - his tendencies to keep everything to himself, to occasionally drown himself in liquor when he is unable to handle it anymore. But he also knows he'd be willing to try - to try and talk about his ... _feelings_ , if it means he doesn't lose Liz.

"I know it's not the same," Ressler finally says. "Losing Sammy. It's not the same as what you lost, he's not dead, he just won't be ... ours anymore. But, does it get better? Does it ever get better?"

"Love is love," Reddington says, heaving himself to his feet. "There are no comparisons. And... yes, it does. The pain of losing a child never gets any better, don't mistake that. But over time you love again. Another child, friends, family - you will love others, in whatever capacity. And while the pain of loss never gets any better, the ones you surround yourself with, those you love... it doesn't negate the pain, but with enough people to help shoulder the burden, it gets easier."

Reddington rests a hand on Ressler's uninjured shoulder. "Remember that, Donald. Don't close yourself off. Let others help shoulder the burden."

Ressler nods, numbly letting Reddington take the cup of ice chips away from him and set it on the table. When Reddington turns around again, he's smiling as he tips his hat onto his head.

"And besides," he says as he opens the door to reveal Liz and Sammy, Liz's hand poised to knock. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. It may not even come to that. Good day, Donald!" he says, cheerfully leaning down to plant a kiss on Sammy's cheek, and then Liz's.

The door closes behind Liz, who looks confused as she moves closer to Ressler's hospital bed.

"What was that about?" she asks, sitting Sammy on Ressler's chest while she goes about setting up the baby's pack 'n' play.

Ressler shakes his head. Reddington was a man of mystery, that much was for sure. "I... I'm not sure," he says, his brow furrowing in confusion. They'd found James, he couldn't have possibly meant that they might not lose Sammy, right? He doesn't dare get his hopes up, so instead of dwelling on it, he beckons for Liz to come closer.

"Leave it," he says, motioning toward the pack 'n' play. "Come here, lay with us for a bit," he says, and as Liz leaves the pieces of Sammy's bed in the middle of the room and comes closer, he can see that she's just as worried as him, just as sad at the prospect of losing Sammy. She crawls into the narrow hospital bed, resting her head on Ressler's chest. He's using his injured arm to prop Sammy up, and he wraps his uninjured on to hold Liz close. As they all begin to drift off, Sammy's tiny, sleepy snores filling the room, he allows himself to believe that they can keep this, that they won't lose Sammy and the little family they've built.

Later, when the nurse comes in later that night, she smiles at seeing the little family all curled together on the bed. She gives the dad a shot of painkillers so he won't wake up from the pain in the middle of the night, and turns out the light to let the family sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no excuse for my horrible, awful behavior. I am going to blame Blacklist and their episode break and also OMG that episode. There is literally one more chapter left, the epilogue, and it will take place partially in the future, and partially immediately after this scene through flashbacks.
> 
> Please comment! (Even though I am a horrible human being who didn't update for months and months and months!)


End file.
